The Family Reunion Probability Theorem
by Misophonia
Summary: When Sheldon invites Amy to accompany him to his annual family reunion, she sees it as a major step in the evolution of their romance. But, as the weekend winds down, so do her hopes Sheldon will ever be able to hold up his end of a physical relationship. Will her support during an unexpected tragedy prove to be the catalyst needed to draw her mysophobic boyfriend out of his shell?
1. Chapter 1

**The Family Reunion Probability Theorem**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**The Big Bang Theory**_** or any of its varied characters. **_**The Big Bang Theory**_** is a copyright of Chuck Lorre & Bill Prady. I am merely taking their characters out for a little joy ride.**

**Chapter One**

_"You should also know that all physical contact up to and including coitus is off the table."  
__**Amy Farrah Fowler (TBBT Season 3)**__  
__"The Lunar Excitation"_

If Amy hadn't known better, she would have thought Sheldon was going to kiss her.

All indicators certainly supported this hypothesis. The accelerated breathing, the sweat beading along her boyfriend's forehead, his inability to hold her gaze, and the constant wringing of his hands in his lap were all classic symptoms of a nervous man about to plant a big one on his lady love for the first time.

_Could it be? After so long?_

But as much as her heart wanted the evidence to point in that direction, her brain remained unconvinced. After all, this was Dr. Sheldon Lee Cooper, a mysophobic, Mr. Spock-idolizing theoretical physicist. This was a man who thought hand-holding was reserved for providing comfort during flu shots and hugging was something one did not more than once or twice a year. And, in case she ever forgot any of the aforementioned rules, there was a relationship agreement which spelled out in black and white just how much he wanted to avoid any and all physical contact. In fact, in the over two years she had been Sheldon's girlfriend, the closest he'd come to being what anyone would consider as a "real boyfriend" had been a ten-minute cuddle session and even that had only happened after a period of terse negotiations.

_But, if he's not going to kiss me, what else could it be?_

This was a puzzle Amy's mind could not solve, which only intrigued her more. It was the third Thursday in June, their scheduled "date night" for the month. They'd enjoyed dinner at a Sheldon-approved Italian restaurant and had just left a showing of an action-thriller involving a deadly gang of robot zombies. She'd expected the ride home to be filled with him blissfully exalting the wonders of the film while she countered with the implausibility of not only zombies, but robot zombies wielding Samurai swords. Instead, he'd been silent, staring out the window, and speaking only monosyllabic answers to any question she posed. She'd thought perhaps he'd fallen ill or was simply too tired to talk. Now, as they sat in her car outside of his apartment, she was completely baffled as to what was going on. Sheldon made no move to get out so she could continue on to her place. No, he remained seated, the navy blue seatbelt still encircling his chest even though her dashboard clock read 10:19 PM.

_In the immortal words of Lewis Carroll, "Curiouser and curiouser."_

Once Sheldon indicated that he wanted to be her boyfriend, Amy had carefully plotted a 5-year, step-by-step schedule to chart the trajectory of this relationship with the ultimate goal being marriage to Sheldon. There was even a chart which plotted each phase along the journey as well as established a date and time for when each step should be taken. She used scientific theory and neurobiological and mathematical principles to discern the steps required to get Sheldon to fall in love with her, to be comfortable with her presence in the major aspects of his life, and to confront and overcome his aversion to physical contact—at least where she was concerned. She saw it as the major scientific accomplishment of her life and career. It would never be published in a scientific journal of note—some things were private, after all—but she was quite proud of the many triumphs she had already made in this area. She knew others like her best friend Penny would see all of this as unemotional and too scientific. It's supposed to be about romantic love, after all. But, Penny didn't understand that, for people like Amy and Sheldon,_ everything_ was based in science.

More importantly, Amy desperately loved Sheldon. She'd realized this only a few weeks before Sheldon had asked her to be his girlfriend. It had been a shock to discover herself in this condition—not only because it was Sheldon, but because she'd never believed herself able to produce these feelings for anyone. The second she'd realized and accepted the notion that her heart forever belonged to Sheldon Lee Cooper, she had decided that it wasn't enough. He had to love her back just as ardently. She suspected that he was already halfway there. After all, there was a moment in their early acquaintance when they'd broken off all contact after a heated discussion on scientific rivalries. The next thing she knew, she had received a call from Sheldon's mother telling her that Sheldon had bought a clowder of cats because he was pining for one Amy Farrah Fowler. Then, more importantly, there were other indicators. The constant, daily communication; his rampant jealousy of any potential male suitors who dared look her way; his begrudging consent to amend the relationship agreement to include some physical contact; and, of course, his proposal that she be his girlfriend in the first place. Moreover, there were instances when Sheldon looked at her in a uniquely curious way—like the greatest scientific discovery he'd ever seen was unfolding right in front of him—his blue eyes seeming to soak up everything about her like a sponge. She mentally sighed._ Yes, he's halfway in love with me already. _

So, it was certainly possible he had determined this fact for himself tonight and was considering kissing her to test his hypothesis. After all, it's what any good scientist should do._ Yes, it's possible_, Amy thought, watching him, _but not probable._

She put the car in park and turned off the engine. Flipping on the overhead light so she could see him better, she turned to him and asked, "Sheldon, are you all right?"

"Yes. Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" he said, his eyes intent on the front windshield.

"Are you sure?" Instinctively, she reached out to touch his hand.

He flinched away from her in alarm, which made her immediately pull back. She knew better than to do that, but her acceptance of her boyfriend's many phobias didn't take away the sting of rejection that welled within her. It never did.

Amy inhaled, intent on trying a different method to get the answers she wanted. Sheldon was always a challenge she could never seem to overcome. It was one of the many reasons she relished her time with him. But, more than that, she admired and genuinely liked him as a person. They were alike in so many areas and different in others—but in a good, fascinating sort of way. They were the perfect couple. _Well, almost._ The almost came during those odd moments when she found herself studying his large, well-defined hands and wondering what it would be like to have them caressing her body. Other times, she would be mesmerized by his generous mouth, imagining his soft, wet lips kissing their way down her neck.

_Not now_, she told herself. The time for succumbing to base urges and hormones would come later … much, much later. Amy already had it plotted out on the schedule. She would cure Sheldon of his many issues, but not tonight. No, tonight her intent was on finding the source of whatever was troubling him.

"Sheldon," she began again, keeping her voice neutral and businesslike in order to calm him, "as you have not yet exited my vehicle and your bedtime has come and gone, I can only assume that there is something of importance you wish to discuss with me. What is it?"

Sheldon sighed, looking down at the hands clenched tightly in his lap. "I once again underestimated your superb skills of observation, reasoning, and deduction, Amy Farrah Fowler."

Amy held back from pointing out the obvious—that anyone with eyes could see he was upset—and focused on his face. "You can tell me anything. You know this."

He nodded, but stayed silent. Her clock read 10:33 before she spoke again.

"I have to work tomorrow, Sheldon. Perhaps it might be better for you to consider whatever it is you want to say and call me in the morning." To emphasize her words, she reached up to turn the key in the ignition.

"No," he yelped, grabbing her hand.

She inhaled—they both did—as his hand captured hers. The warmth radiating from his long fingers was surprising. That her whole hand was tingling in response was also a bit of a shock. So many people had cold hands, but not Sheldon—never Sheldon. They both stared at his hand covering hers. She blushed at the intimacy of the moment, even though she knew it was ridiculous. They had held hands on many occasions ever since she'd demanded he amend the relationship agreement to allow for it on specified dating times. But, this was only the second time he'd ever willingly reached for her, the second time he'd touched her without her having to give him written notice via text or email. The first time had been during a deeply emotional experience for him, and it had been so long ago she'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

But, boy, did she remember now.

Amy shouldn't have been surprised when he yanked his hand away, but she was. The first thing she noticed was the lack of warmth—even though it was a hot, humid summer evening. The second was that the tingling was still present in her hand. Only, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn't a tingling sensation after all; it was more like a slow, delicious burn.

Embarrassed by the turn of her thoughts, she buried her hand in the folds of her skirt, trying to refocus on Sheldon. His cheeks were rosy from what looked like a blush, something she found charming.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you like that," he said, his eyes latched on the fact that her offended limb was currently entombed by several inches of cotton and polyester.

"It's fine, Sheldon. Please, just tell me whatever it is you need to say. The waiting is killing me."

"You're right. This is like a Band-Aid. I should just to rip it off and get it over with."

She frowned, not liking where this was going.

"Amy," he said, angling his body towards her. "Our relationship agreement has been in place for two years and, with the exception of a few missteps that were mostly your fault—"

"But—" she argued.

He held up a hand to stave off her words. "I didn't say they were all your fault, but I think we can safely conclude that most came about because of you. Now, as I was saying, we have been in what I would term as a successful relationship for the last two years. However, I have recently been made aware of a social convention that, try as I might, I cannot avoid. Thus, I am left with two choices: One, to give in to this ridiculous social pressure and subject myself to something which I find morally and physically repugnant as well as infinitely tedious or, two, to terminate my relationship with you. "

_He's breaking up with me?_ Amy's mind went into shock. She couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"Sheldon, don't—"

"I know," he said, calmly. "Who would have thought we would ever come to this? But, there really is no other way around it." He took a deep, determined breath. "So, with this in mind, Amy Farrah Fowler, will you accompany me to Texas for the Cooper Family Reunion?"

Tears were biting at the back of her eyes when his words finally sank in. "What?"

He sighed as though he were exhausted. "Why do you always make me ask these horrendously uncomfortable questions twice?" He sighed again. "Will you come to the Cooper Family Reunion with me? It's next weekend and, according to my mother, not bringing my girlfriend to meet all of my relatives is unacceptable. I have tried to sway her, but it's impossible. So, what do you say? We'll fly out Thursday pre-evening. You'll need to take next Friday off, but we'll return Sunday night, I'll pay for your plane ticket, and we can stay at a nearby motel—in separate rooms, of course. This was the only concession I was able to get my mother to make and I—Amy, are you crying?"

"They're happy tears," she said, trying to mop the evidence from her face.

He looked confused, but relieved. "So, does this mean you will come with me?"

"Of course."

Sheldon smiled. "Excellent. I will email you written notice at least 72 hours in advance as per our relationship agreement. Also, keep an eye out for a pre-flight information packet which will have the full travel arrangements, an itinerary of events while we are in Galveston, and a complete family tree of the Cooper clan with pictures. I will warn you now that I have 33 cousins, five named Billy. I only tell you because this can be confusing on the quiz." He gave her a nod. "Goodnight then, Amy."

"Quiz?" she asked. _What is he talking about?_

"The quiz you'll have to pass before we board the plane. It's important that you know who everyone is so I don't have to go through the wearisome task of making introduction after introduction. What did you expect?"

"Sheldon, you can't assume —"

He looked down at his watch. "Amy, it is well after my bedtime. Good night. Please text me in the morning if you have further questions. Be well, and thank you for agreeing to come with me."

And with a firm pat on her hand, he got out of the car and walked towards his building. Amy sat there, trying to get her mind wrapped around what had just occurred. Her boyfriend had willingly touched her twice in one evening. That, in itself, was a lot. Then, he asked her to come meet his family in Texas for an entire weekend where they would be staying together in a motel. In separate rooms, but it was still together. Finally, she was expected to learn an entire family tree of Cooper names and faces. There would even be a quiz. But that was not a problem. No, she considered, all in all, it was a benign tumor in an otherwise perfectly formed anterior cerebral hemisphere.

Amy started her car and put it in gear, smiling widely the whole way home. She was thinking of all the good data she'd have to add to her relationship trajectory chart.

_Wow. Who would have thought it? We're six months ahead of schedule. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_"She doesn't have a boyfriend. She has a Sheldon."  
__**Penny (TBBT Season 5)**__  
"The Flaming Spittoon Acquisition"_

"This is a bad idea."

Amy stopped counting the number of socks and underwear she'd packed and looked over at her best friend, Penny, already dreading where this conversation was headed. "I'm spending a romantic weekend away with my boyfriend. What's more, he's bringing me home to meet all of his relatives. Isn't this what every woman dreams of?"

Penny poured another glass of wine and propped herself up further on Amy's bed. "For most people, sweetie, I would agree. But, Sheldon's only bringing you because his mother is making him, and I certainly wouldn't consider separate rooms at a Motel 6 as romantic."

Bernadette jumped into the conversation from the other side of Amy's bed. "I have to agree with Penny. Going into this with unrealistic expectations can lead to a lot of disappointment for you. It's not like Sheldon is an average boyfriend."

"Well," Amy said, bristling over the fact that Bernadette was implying Sheldon could ever be average. _Who wants just an average boyfriend?_ "No two people are the same. What some consider romantic, another might consider boring. For example, I could never fall in love with a man intellectually incapable of getting his PhD, but you, Bernadette, obviously do not feel the same."

Bernadette's mouth fell open in surprise. "Excuse me? Howard is just as intelligent as Sheldon. And, what's more, he has the terminal degree expected in his field." Her already high voice moved up to chipmunk range.

"If Howard were as smart as Sheldon, he would the same IQ as Sheldon, which we both know he doesn't and—" Amy began.

"Ladies! Ladies, please!" Penny interrupted, getting up to put herself in between the two. "Do you remember what happened the last time you argued over Sheldon and Howard? _I_ landed in the hospital with a bruised nose and a bad headache. So, let's just cool it, OK? You're both in love with intelligent and unique men. Let's leave it at that."

"Sorry, Penny."

"Yes, apologies to you, Bestie," Amy added. She knew she had no reason to feel testy, but the idea that her dearest friends couldn't just be happy for her in this momentous occasion in her life was upsetting. _Why do they have to poke holes in this?_ She knew what she was doing. _Why couldn't they just trust that? _Amy moved to her closet, deciding a change of subject was in order. "Do you guys think I'll need something formal?"

"In the redneck capital of Texas? I think the closest thing those people have to formal down there is having to wear shoes and a shirt at the same time."

Amy opened her mouth to point out that Penny was from Nebraska, hardly the most culturally elite state in the union. But, she stopped herself. Penny was right about them not fighting. This was girls' night, and Penny and Bernadette had been gracious enough to have it over at her apartment while she packed for her trip with Sheldon. The evening should be spent enjoying female bonding time; not taking swipes at each other.

"I'll bring a nice dress just in case." Amy dug in her closet. "I have a sexy, navy blue number my mother made me buy a few years ago after emotionally blackmailing me into going to a Jewish singles mixer."

"Sweetie, you're not Jewish," Penny pointed out.

"I'm also not Mormon, a lesbian or morbidly obese. Yet, all of these groups had singles mixers I was forced to attend. My mother's desperation for grandchildren apparently knows no bounds." She pulled the desired dress from her closet and held it up to show Penny and Bernadette. "What do you think?"

Bernadette grimaced and Penny's bright smile dimmed in what Amy could only interpret as distaste. She looked at the garment she was holding, trying to see it from an objective point of view. But, after running her eyes over the ankle-length, short-sleeved dress with the white, eyelet lace collar, she couldn't discern any reason for her friends' apparent lack of enthusiasm.

"Um … Amy," Penny asked, seeming to need a long, fortifying gulp of her wine, "how is that dress sexy?"

An idea occurred to her. "Oh. Silly me. I should have taken into consideration that the darkness of the color would prevent you from admiring all facets of the frock." Amy turned the hanger sideways and showed the two inch slit up one side of the dress. "See? Sexy."

Bernadette shared a look with Penny before nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's really … sexy. Sheldon is going to boil over with lust the second he sees you in that."

_Not yet, but one day. _Amy smiled, nodded to herself, and packed the dress. "That would certainly be a nice possibility, but hardly probable. Having coitus with Sheldon will take much more planning and negotiations than a mere scrap of cloth flashing my innumerable assets. But, don't worry; we're getting there."

"So, are you planning to _get there_ this weekend?" Penny said.

Amy dropped select toiletries into a small leather case before looking over to her friend. "Of course not. But, that doesn't mean this weekend won't be pivotal for Sheldon and me. This is the first time I'll be meeting his family as his girlfriend. Historically, this has been an occasion for the family to scrutinize a potential female candidate to see what kind of wife she would make for their son as well as whether or not she would fit cohesively into their familial unit. Even though the modern connotations of this do not include the negotiation of a dowry, an exchange of livestock, or a discussion of the width of my birthing hips, it is still an important milestone. Plus, I will get to learn all kinds of relevant data about Sheldon that I might not otherwise know. This will help me to better chart the progress of our relationship from platonic to romantic."

Penny shook her head in obvious confusion. "How is listening to embarrassing childhood stories going to make Sheldon want to do the nasty with you?"

"I'm not talking about embarrassing childhood stories. I'm more interested in information like the family dynamics of the household he was raised in, how he interacts with his siblings, mother, and grandmother versus how he interacts with non-immediate relatives, and where he falls in the social paradigm of his family. These aren't things anyone there can overtly tell me. It's more information I will be able to glean from observation. And having an in-depth understanding of Sheldon's past will help me better grasp of how his issues developed in the first place. This, in turn, will help me aid him in the arduous task of overcoming those issues."

Bernadette looked over at Penny. "This might actually work."

"Really?" Penny asked.

"Of course," Amy replied, with a confident smile. "Believe me, when it comes to dealing with the mind, I know what I'm doing. If neurobiology were magic, I'd be Houdini."

"Sweetie, you haven't been using any of your mind controlling techniques on the rest of us have you?" Penny said, warily exchanging glances with Bernadette.

Amy stopped packing, hearing the unease in her friend's voice. "No. That would be unethical. And I'm not doing anything to Sheldon that he is not more than aware of. He is a willing participant in this experiment."

"Sheldon actually agreed to this?" Bernadette said.

"Not only that, but I've already seen promising results. Sheldon, a man who regards physical touch as something akin to blasphemy, now regularly holds my hand while we're on dates and has even cuddled with me when I was upset. Best of all, when I was sick, he took wonderful care of me and even readily applied Vaporub to my chest. Bernadette, you saw how he proposed giving me a bath that one time."

Penny spit wine across the bed in what Amy hoped was surprise. "He did what? The Shamy are bathing together now? You didn't tell me this. Why does everyone else know this but me?"

Amy colored, remembering another thing Sheldon had done while she was sick that she hadn't shared with them. But, as they barely understood her willingness to stay with him in the first place, she sincerely doubted they would understand why she had allowed him to do what he'd done to her—much less that she'd enjoyed it so much. She grinned. "A girl's gotta have a few secrets every now and again."

"Screw that," Penny said, jumping off the bed. "I need details. Did Sheldon see you naked? How did he act? Was it more than once? Was he naked too? Did anything else happen? Was it weird to have him bathe you when you two haven't … you know?"

Bernadette joined them down by Amy's suitcase and waved off Penny's incessant questions. "Never mind that. Amy, tell me more about this neurobiological bag of aces you have up your proverbial sleeve. Do you think something like that might work on Howie and his mother issues?"

Amy laughed; thrilled she had finally gotten her friends to stop worrying about her weekend with Sheldon. After all, she had everything firmly in hand. She had a carefully constructed plan, an avid willingness to see it through, and miles of patience. Yes, she was greatly looking forward to this weekend.

It was going to be bliss.

— —

"It's torture. That's what it is."

"Sheldon, don't you think you're overreacting?" she asked.

"Well, let's see. Our plane was delayed, which means a 9-hour flight became a 12-hour flight. We finally arrived at our destination only to find that the rental car company has closed for the evening, which means we have to take a taxi to our motel, which means tomorrow we'll have to take another taxi to come back to get the rental car, which is going to completely throw off the itinerary I put together. Not to mention that it is so far beyond my bedtime that I may as well not go to sleep at all."

Amy sighed and pulled her suitcase off the luggage carousel. "Look, let's just finish getting our luggage, find a taxi, and get to the motel. I am exhausted too, Sheldon, but your complaining is making it worse. Come on now. The whole trip wasn't unpleasant, was it?"

She watched him process this question. No doubt he was remembering the countless sessions of Travel Counterfactuals as well as the lively debates they'd shared after that. Sheldon had been a little nervous before take-off, but even that had been a satisfying experience as it allowed her to hold his hand for comfort. She'd even remembered to pack Sheldon-approved food to consume on the flight as she knew anything offered to him by strange stewardesses was going to be refused. All in all, traveling with Sheldon had been an enjoyable experience.

His face twitched, but finally relaxed into a small smile. "I suppose it wasn't all bad. I greatly enjoyed the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off you brought, and I must say that your idea for converting Counterfactuals into a travel-sized game was brilliant."

She smiled back at him, feeling her heart jump in her chest. "Good. There's your suitcase. Grab it, and let's get out of here."

Ten minutes later, they were installed in the back a cab heading to the Motel 6 where he'd reserved rooms. Conversation was nonexistent as they were both drained. Traffic was light in the wee hours of morning, so it turned out to be a quicker trip than they'd planned. Once they arrived, they checked in and were soon rolling their suitcases to the elevator. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the rooms were adjoining, but before she could ponder the possible connotations of this development, Sheldon explained the decision was only for security reasons. If someone tried to break into one of their rooms during the night, they would each have a way of escape.

"So, we'll keep the door between us open?" she asked, hopefully.

"Of course not," he said. "If there is any emergency, the one facing the emergency should rap three short times on the door to alert the other."

She sighed, irritated at herself for thinking there might be more to this. "Fine, Sheldon. I'm going to my room now." Amy entered her room, put away her clothes, showered and put on her nightgown. She'd just finished brushing her teeth and was walking towards the bed when she heard three sharp raps on the adjoining door.

Slightly alarmed, she swung the door open to find Sheldon on the other side. He looked at his watch before beaming up at her. "A five-second response time. Good job, Amy. You've passed the first safety test."

The last of her patience left her. "Sheldon, I'm going to bed. It is very late, and you and I have a lot to do tomorrow. So, unless you are planning to enter my room for the purposes of ravishing my willing body within an inch of its life, I'm closing the door now."

Sheldon's jaw dropped open in surprise. "Amy!"

Amy laughed at his expression. "I'll take that as a no. Good night, Sheldon." And, with that, she shut the door in his still-shocked face. Amy giggled to herself on her way to the bed, thinking the severe lack of sleep must be making her giddy.

After all, she'd enjoyed that little moment far more than she should have.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_"You are aware that your ritualistic knocking behavior is symptomatic of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder?"__  
_**Amy Farrah Fowler (TBBT Season 5)**  
_"The Infestation Hypothesis"_

Morning came faster than Amy was prepared for. First, there was a wake-up text from Sheldon at the crack of dawn. Then, when she didn't respond, her phone began playing Sheldon's ringtone over and over until she wanted to throw it across the room. Finally, when she silenced the phone and was dozing back off, she heard the tell-tale knocks on the adjoining door followed by her name repeated three times.

"No. No. No," she groaned and rolled over, staring blearily up at the white ceiling. Her head was pounding from lack of sleep, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes for a few more hours. Maybe Penny and Bernadette were right. Maybe this trip was a mistake. Maybe she and Sheldon would never have sex. But when the knocks sounded again and Amy jerked herself out of bed to answer the door, she realized there was still one way for her to achieve primal satisfaction with Sheldon.

_I can kill him. That would be infinitely satisfying._

She swung the door open. "_What_, Sheldon?"

He seemed taken aback, but whether it was from her curt tone or rumpled appearance she wasn't sure. After only three hours of sleep, she could well imagine how horrible she looked. Sheldon, however, was the picture of perfection. He was wearing a blue Superman t-shirt that brought out the color in his eyes along with a light green undershirt and khaki pants. There wasn't even a hair out of place. In fact, the only way she could tell that he'd had the same three miserable hours of sleep as her was the slight shadows under his eyes.

"Amy, you're not dressed," he chided.

"You woke me up to tell me this?"

Sheldon sighed. "Amy, according to the itinerary, we are supposed to eat breakfast this morning together at seven." He checked his watch and frowned. "It's 7:05, young lady."

She closed her eyes and bit back a groan of frustration. Of course Sheldon would stick to his schedule no matter what. Amy knew she had no reason to be surprised, but she honestly hadn't considered this when she fell asleep last night. _I love him. I can't kill him. Usually, I think these little traits of his are adorable. I'm sure I'll remember that as soon as I'm fully functioning again._ She opened her eyes and forced a smile. "You're right. My apologies. If you give me fifteen minutes, I'll be ready to go."

Sheldon nodded. "Make it ten. We've got a schedule to keep and, since we have to pick up the rental car, time is at a premium today. If we hurry, we might be able prevent chaos from erupting all over my perfectly-timed schedule." He said nothing more, just pulled the adjoining door closed behind him when he left. Amy wanted to throw a Bernadette-style temper tantrum, but there simply wasn't time. Amy knew from experience that her boyfriend wasn't kidding with the ten-minute window he'd given her.

Thankful she'd had to foresight to shower the previous evening, she hurriedly dressed in her planned outfit for today, a brown skirt and a pale pink blouse. A pearly white cardigan, hose, and shoes completed the ensemble. She ran a brush through her hair and another through her teeth, hoping, but not really caring if she picked the right tool for the right job. Then, grabbing her purse, she slipped out her door to find Sheldon waiting for her in the hallway.

"Nine minutes," he said, beaming. "Well done."

She tried to hang on to her earlier anger and ignore how handsome he looked when he smiled like that, but it was next to impossible. Just being around him released a cocktail of neurotransmitters like adrenaline, dopamine and serotonin into her brain and made her heart thump a staccato beat in her chest. Even if she hadn't already known, these indicators would have told her that she loved Sheldon. In such cases as these, science was infallible.

"Here is an extra key to my room," he said, holding out the little rectangle piece of plastic.

"You're giving me a key to your room? Why?" _Dare I hope …?_

"In case there's an emergency and I am unable to open the door. You'll need to save me, of course. Safety first, Amy."

_Nope, I don't dare at all._ "Yeah, safety first," she repeated, more than a little disappointed.

"Give me your extra one as well. That way, I can save you."

They traded keys, taking the time to tuck the plastic into their respective wallets.

"Are you ready?" Sheldon asked when he was done.

She nodded, following him to the elevator. There was little conversation on the ride downstairs. Amy could tell how tired he was as his movements were slower than normal. Still, he soldiered along, pointing out the restaurant across the street where they would eat.

After a quick meal where she drowned two aspirin with three cups of coffee and listened to Sheldon lecture her on the importance of a balanced breakfast for higher brain function and better colon health, they took a cab to the car rental shop. Once they were firmly settled in their new white Toyota Camry with a GPS dictating the best route to Galveston, her headache was gone and the excitement of the day was making her feel closer to her usual buoyant self.

"Amy, are you feeling better?" Sheldon asked.

She made the turn as the GPS directed. "Yes. Thank you for asking, Sheldon."

"You have barely spoken since I woke you up this morning. I can see that you are in pain. If you want, you could drop me off at my mother's and return to the motel room to rest."

Her heart almost stopped. Sheldon was actually thinking about her needs above his own? It was amazing. "Really? You would do that for me?"

"I'm not as callous as Penny and the others would have you believe, Amy," he said. "You're my girlfriend. It is my job to look after your well-being."

She wanted to kiss him, but settled for sending him a wide smile. "Thank you. And while I appreciate the thought, I think it would be better if we proceed with our day as originally planned."

He frowned down at the itinerary in his hands. "Well, that isn't going to happen. We're ninety-three minutes behind schedule. We'll never catch up now."

"Perhaps it'd be best if we postponed the 'Sheldon Cooper: History of a Genius' tour? That would get us back on track."

He sighed in obvious displeasure. "I suppose. But I would hate for you to miss out on seeing my elementary school or the library I was in when I first decided to become a theoretical physicist. Of course, after I win the Nobel Prize, those will be the hot spots of the official tour, but you'd be the first one able to really appreciate the historical significance of both locations."

"I'll manage to contain my disappointment somehow, Sheldon," she said. "Perhaps we can do it on Saturday or Sunday before we leave?"

He shook his head. "That's no good. We'll be too busy with family nonsense to get away. I suppose we'll just have to do it next year."

She nodded, but then stopped as the implication behind his statement hit her. "You mean you want me to come with you to the reunion next year, too?"

"Of course. You're my girlfriend, and the reunion happens every year. Your attendance will be expected if I am there. Unfortunately, my presence at this event is mandatory. That and my promise to go to a church service once a year were among the conditions my mother made me agree to before she would allow me to move to Pasadena."

Her smile widened into a full-fledge grin. Sheldon was making future plans with her as his girlfriend? _Excellent._ _Looks like I have new data to enter on my chart_.

Amy's bubble of contentment didn't burst until they were a few miles from Sheldon's mother's house. Then, the full implications of today's visit hit her. She was going to meet Sheldon's family en masse. Her stomach coiled into a tense bundle of nerves. Meanwhile, Sheldon spent his time blissfully unaware of her unease. He talked nonstop about his research, every once and a while pointing out landmarks of historical consequence to his future in physics.

Apparently, there were quite a few of them. Any other time, Amy might have found herself fascinated by the information Sheldon was readily sharing about his past. But, the nerves wouldn't allow that. Her brain wouldn't stop going over all the ways she could screw this up. What if she said the wrong thing? What if they didn't like her? What if she made a major social faux pas because she hadn't researched the Southern culture carefully enough? Familial pressure was a powerful thing. Amy knew this from personal experience. But, for Sheldon, his mother and his meemaw were the kryptonite to his Superman. If they didn't like her, all the experiments in the world wouldn't be able to save this relationship. Raw panic set in when they'd finally turned on the street Mrs. Cooper lived on. It was all Amy could do not to turn the car around.

"And this is spot where I first read about atoms and realized—"

"Sheldon!" she said, interrupting him. "I know you are happy to be home and want to show me everything. And, as much as all of that information is relevant data to me, I must ask that you discontinue speaking. My nerves can't take a moment more."

"Nerves? What could you possibly have to be nervous about?"

She pulled over on the side of the road before turning to look at him. "What if they don't like me?"

Sheldon looked genuinely befuddled for a moment. "Who?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Your family."

"No, Amy, that isn't what I meant. I mean who wouldn't like you?"

A wave of love crashed over her at his blunt question. She could see from the earnest expression on his face that he was sincere. "Your mother, for one."

He waved her off. "My mother has already met you and granted her approval of our relationship."

"That's not true. As I remember it, she expressly forbade us from even being friends."

He gave a breathy laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You mean you actually fell for that thinly-veiled reverse psychology trick she tried to play on us? That wasn't her voicing her disdain for you. That was her giving me a way to get you back in my life while not crushing my ego." He shook his head. "She thinks she's so clever, but I always figure her out sooner or later."

Amy considered this. It certainly made sense, but also made her consider how she'd been so gullible. "So you think she approves of me being your girlfriend?"

"Of course. Why else would she be so insistent that I bring you along with me?"

Relief washed through her, but she couldn't entirely be content yet. "What about your meemaw?"

The mention of his grandmother made Sheldon smile in a way she'd never seen before. It had a dreamy, almost blissful quality to it. Right then and there, Amy decided that she would not rest until she saw Sheldon look that way when he thought of her.

"Don't worry about Meemaw, Amy. She loves and accepts everyone. She's the best person in the world." Even as he said this, something else seemed to occur to him which took away some of his happiness. "Although …"

"Although?" Amy prompted, feeling her panic beginning to return.

"Amy, while I do not expect your interactions with my mother and grandmother to be in any way discomforting, I cannot promise the same in regards to my other family members. Their intellect and manners are well below the standards of decency and decorum. They take delight in tormenting me about my work and life choices, and I find myself concerned that this torment might extend to you."

Amy took Sheldon's hand in hers and, for once, he didn't immediately try to pull away. "Sheldon, don't worry. I can take care of myself in regards to those kinds of people. Believe me; between middle and high school as well as college, I have plenty of experience dealing with all sorts of fatuous miscreants. Besides, from what little research I was able to do on Southern culture in preparation for this trip, I don't believe a matriarch like your mother would allow such uncouth behavior to happen to a guest in her own home."

The worry lines in his face smoothed. "You're right. But, if something should happen in this vein, you need only say the word, and I'll take immediate action. I won't have anyone mocking my woman."

"Thank you, Sheldon," she said. Her heart soared. _His woman. Really?_

With a nod, he abruptly released her hand and pointed. "The house is right there. We should get going, Amy. At this rate, we're already going to be eight minutes late. I'm not above telling my mother that you are the cause for this."

Amy laughed at the abrupt change in his tone, but still did as he said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_"I don't like The Olive Garden. They treat me like family."__  
_**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 4)**  
_"The Apology Insufficiency"_

Sheldon's childhood home smelled like pastries, freshly-laundered clothes, and domestic tranquility. The front rooms were cozy, quaint, and impeccably cleaned. They were also packed to the rafters with enough spiritual art and assorted Jesus-themed knick knacks to start a religious cult.

Amy was fascinated.

While Sheldon put away his house key and called out for his mother, she perused the brown walls peppered with various photos of family members. She found one of Sheldon at approximately age nine or ten with his father and older brother. The two older Cooper males proudly held up rifles and the bloody carcasses of animals for the camera. Sheldon, standing uneasily in the background, was clearly out of his element.

"We were required to be proficient in the use of firearms. According to my father, the rite of passage to male adulthood includes the slaughtering of innocent animals, consuming mass quantities of cheap liquor while watching football, and copulating with multiple female companions. I confess the correlation of these aptitudes to male maturity continues to escape me."

She turned to see Sheldon standing behind her. He stared at the photo, his expression confused and forlorn.

"Quite illogical," she said, shuddering to remember all the embarrassing, feminine pursuits her own mother had forced her through as a teenager.

"Thus," Sheldon continued, "I concluded that if completing these tasks were what it meant to be a grown up in my father's eyes, I would remain a child forever … like Peter Pan." He smiled to himself, but it didn't last. "Fortunately for Dad, my older brother excelled where I didn't. In fact, if they awarded doctorates in those areas, George Jr. would be considered quite a learned man."

Amy was prevented from commenting by the entrance of Mrs. Cooper. "Shelly, is that you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she engulfed her son in a hug, which he tolerated a moment before moving away. Mrs. Cooper, obviously well used to Sheldon's idiosyncrasies continued on as though nothing had occurred. "Well, praise the Lord you made it. I'm sorry I didn't hear y'all right away. I was out back hanging a fresh load of towels up on the line." She checked the _Jesus Saves_ clock on the wall. "Aren't y'all early?"

Sheldon scowled. "Mom, we're nine minutes late. Didn't you read the itinerary I sent?"

"I try not to, lamb chop," she replied, patting him on the cheek before smiling at the woman at his side. "Amy, it's a pleasure to see you."

Before Amy could respond, she was embraced. Cinnamon and sugar clung to the woman like perfume. When the hug continued on for longer than the established norm, she awkwardly patted Mrs. Cooper's back while waiting to be released. When the older woman finally pulled away, her hands remained on Amy's shoulders. "Let me look at you."

"You've seen me before, Mrs. Cooper. Don't you remember?" Amy asked, wondering if Sheldon's mother was suffering from dementia of some sort.

"Of course I remember meeting you before, honey. It's just this time, you're Sheldon's girlfriend." With a bemused smile, she shook her head. "Don't tell me about power of prayer. I've got the proof right here in my hands."

Sheldon rolled his eyes. "Mom, kindly release Amy and refrain from spouting such hokum before you frighten her. I would prefer her exceptional mind remain untainted by religious fanaticism."

Mary kept her hands where they were. "Fear is a good thing to have when it comes to God. Keeps you humble." Over her shoulder, she caught her son in what Amy could only assume was a quelling glare. "Sheldon Lee Cooper, you watch your mouth when you're talking about our Lord and Savior. Be respectful."

His head immediately bowed. "Yes, ma'am."

Captivated, Amy stared, both intimidated and impressed by the power this woman deftly brandished over one of the world's most brilliant scientific minds. "It's nice to see you too, Mrs. Cooper," she said as politely as possible. After all, it was best to stay on Mrs. Cooper's good side.

"You may as well call me Mary. You're practically family already. Well, God willing." She paused to send a look heavenward. "So, Amy, you ever been to Texas before?"

"No, my travels in the United States have been regulated primarily to the east and west coasts. I was once invited to attend a conference in Houston on the 'Neural Correlates of Consciousness,' but my mother forced me to go on a Mormon singles cruise instead."

Mary's lips thinned. "Oh my goodness! You aren't Mormon, are you?"

"Of course not. I am without religious affiliation."

"That's a relief." She released an audible sigh. "Undecided I can work with. Once you get in with the Mormons, they marry you and your sister off to Warren Jeffs and then it's almost impossible to get you out."

Amy opened her mouth to correct Mary's obvious religious ignorance, but she'd already moved on to another subject.

"You two go on and have a seat in the living room. I've got snickerdoodles in the oven. How about some sweet tea?" She ushered them to an alcove off from the main room where an old couch and loveseat set of indeterminate color were scrunched together with a black leather recliner.

"Yes, thank you," Amy replied, choosing a seat on one end of the couch. When Sheldon stopped in front of her, she looked up in confusion.

"What?"

"You're in my spot," he said.

Rolling her eyes, she immediately scooted to the middle and allowed him to take her vacated position. Mary returned with a tray holding three glasses of iced tea and a small plate of warm cookies.

"I hope your trip was pleasant," Mary said as she served everyone.

"It was not," Sheldon grumbled. "The airline launched a plot to drive me to the very edge of my sanity. After three hours, they apparently decided to complete the task I'd paid them hundreds of dollars to do, which is to deliver us to Texas in a safe and timely manner. They seem to be under the impression that achieving only one of those caveats somehow equals good customer service, but I'll be sending a strongly-worded letter to correct these kinds of misconceptions for the—"

"That's nice, Shelly," Mary said, dismissively before focusing on Amy. "I hope my son hasn't been too much of a challenge for your patience, Amy. Traveling with him has always been a mite tricky. There's just so much space up there in his brain for information, and he can recall any of it in a second. It means boredom for him is more of a problem than for an ordinary child. Honestly, his smarts are a blessing and a curse. I've learned it's best to keep him busy with games and trivia. But, if that doesn't work, he can't taste Nyquil once it's mixed in cherry Kool-Aid." She reached over to pat Amy's hand. "Keep that in mind, dear."

_Interesting. How could such ignorance live in perfect tandem with such wisdom?_ Mary Cooper was a walking oxymoron, and Amy was enthralled. _I wonder if she'll allow me to hook her brain to electrodes? A brain scan, of course, would be optimal, but I doubt we'll have time for that._

Amy opened her mouth to ask about the electrodes when someone called out from the back of the house. She couldn't distinguish what had been said, but it effected Sheldon in a curious way. One minute he was happily nibbling on a snickerdoodle. The next, he was running towards the kitchen. Amy, more than curious, followed.

"Meemaw!" he yelled as a tall, fleshy octogenarian with a gray bun and Sheldon's blue eyes pushed through the swinging kitchen door. Without waiting, he propelled himself into the woman's arms, snuggling against her like a child would its mother after a long absence.

_Remarkable_, Amy thought. Minutes had passed, but Sheldon still remained locked in his grandmother's embrace. If anything, he seemed to relish prolonged physical contact with her.

Meemaw rubbed her hand soothingly up and down her grandson's back. "Oh, I missed you, too, Moon Pie. But, we can't stand here cuddlin' all day. You've gotta introduce me to your girlfriend. We can't have her thinkin' we're rude."

She delicately drew Sheldon from her arms, but softened her words by delivering a gentle kiss to his cheek. Instead of jerking away in horror, Sheldon seemed gratified by his grandmother's affection.

_Absolutely perfect!_ Amy was more euphoric now than she'd been when she'd found her first tumor in a brain specimen. It was thrilling. Most women might think it odd to find that their boyfriend was so attached to his grandmother, but Amy wasn't most women. No, this was a good sign. If Sheldon could be so open and at ease with physical affection with his grandmother, this meant it was possible for him to be so with other people. She almost squealed out loud, but stopped herself. _Now was not the time to look foolish_.

Sheldon colored at his grandmother's mild rebuke and seemed to remember Amy existed. He moved to stand between the two women. "Amy, this is Meemaw. Meemaw, this is Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler."

Amy's hand shot out in preparation for a handshake. "Nice to meet you."

The older woman eyed her inquisitively for a moment before shaking her head. "Welcome, Amy. But, you should know, I've never been one for hand-shakin'—especially around family. I'm a hugger by nature."

And, with that, Amy was enveloped in the warmest, softest, safest embrace she'd ever known. It felt as though every hurt she'd ever experienced was immediately healed, ever transgression forgotten, and every wrong made right. In fact, if hugging were golf, Meemaw would've been the Tiger Woods of the sport. _No wonder Sheldon loves her_. _I've known her for three seconds and I love her. _

Amy was slightly disappointed when the hug ended, but consoled herself with the hope that there might be a repeat performance before they left for the evening.

Meemaw looked Amy over as meticulously as Mary had. "Well now. My name is Virginia Darcy. But, you may as well call me 'Meemaw'. Everyone else does."

Amy nodded, in no way able or willing to refuse this woman anything. She wanted to give her the sun, the moon and all the stars. She wanted … Her train of thought derailed as she suddenly remembered the hostess gifts she had stashed in her purse. She could give her those. Amy looked around for her purse to get them, only to realize that in her haste to catch up with Sheldon earlier, she'd left it in the car.

"If you'll excuse me, there's something I need to retrieve from the car," she explained.

"Of course," Meemaw said. "You hurry on back, you hear? I want to get to know Moon Pie's special girl." She glanced at her grandson. "Guess what? I made you—"

"Cinnamon rolls? Oh bully! Thanks, Meemaw," Sheldon shouted, rushing into the kitchen.

Amy hurried herself, intent on getting her errand completed quickly so she could get back. Not only did she want to observe all the interactions between Sheldon and Meemaw and pick the older woman's brain for any relevant Sheldon-related data, but she also just wanted to soak up all the comfort and reassurance generated by the woman's mere presence.

_It's like a drug_, Amy considered, grabbing her purse from the car, locking it back, and hastening towards the house. _In fact, if we could bottle Meemaw, drug companies would be out of business. Screw putting electrodes on Mary, I wonder if I should attach them to myself and then spend the day in Meemaw's company. It would be interesting to see which areas of the brain are stimulated by—_

"Howdy there, sweet thang."

She looked up. Across from her—too close for comfort, actually—was a lanky man in a baseball cap, dingy t-shirt and faded blue jeans. The words "Wrap It In Latex Or She'll Get Your Paychecks" were emblazoned across the shirt in black lettering. There was also a large can of beer in his right hand, which he used to gesture towards her. "You lost?"

Amy examined the man's face. Hard nose, strong jaw, and cherub-like cheeks. _Yep, definitely a Cooper relative_. She scanned through the images in her memory until she came upon a match from the family tree pictures Sheldon had made her memorize.

"You're Hank Cooper," she said.

He gaped. "Are you a psychic?"

"I'm a neurobiologist."

"Is that a kind of psychic?"

She frowned. "No, it's a kind of scientist."

He moved closer, towering over her until she was uncomfortable. Amy took a step back, but decided it was imperative that she retain her proverbial ground. A verbal warning was clearly in order. "Maintain a safe distance from me, sir, or I shall be forced to employee radical, physical protective measures in order to uphold my safety."

"Huh?" he asked, taking another swig from his beer.

Amy pursed her lips in frustration. She'd had more intelligent conversations with Ricky, the monkey at the primate lab. "Let me put it in a way you're alcohol-addled brain will understand: I have mace, and I'm not afraid to use it."

He backed up, one hand in the air in mock surrender. "Ain't no need to spray me with no mace. I'm just trying to talk to a beautiful lady."

She nodded. "Thank you for the compliment. And, while I know the tilt of my ample bosom is aesthetically pleasing—curse you, Victoria's Secret front-closure bra—and the beckon of my hips has been known to be the downfall of many a man, you should understand that it is not appropriate to invade the personal space of a lady. You may have forgotten this due to your inebriation, but—"

She broke off when Hank swayed deliriously towards her. Without thinking, she reached out to steady him. He grabbed hold of her waist.

"Got'cha," he said, leering drunkenly down at her. "Now, what'cha gonna do?"

Amy was about to knee him in the groin—a maneuver Penny had guaranteed would bring any overly-ardent admirer to his knees—when she heard Sheldon shout behind her.

"Hank, release her or I shall be forced to thrash you within an inch of your worthless life."

Hank released her and turned to face down Sheldon. "Well if it isn't Smelly Shelly. Don't tell me this little filly belongs to the likes of you. Don't your tastes run more to robots?"

"She's my girlfriend. Now, back off before I trounce you. I should warn you that I watched a ninja movie just last week and I learned quite a lot."

Hank laughed. "I ain't afraid of you, Cuz. I ain't afraid of nobody."

"Hank!" Mary yelled from the front window. "Leave them alone before I call your mother."

This threat had Hank wilting like a flower in the desert. "Yes, ma'am. I'm going."

Without another word, he slinked off down the road, wobbling as he walked. Amy watched him for a bit. _Obviously Sheldon isn't the only Cooper male to fear his mother's wrath. _She looked over the man at her side.

"Thank you, Sheldon."

He wasn't listening. He was too busy glaring after his cousin.

"Sheldon, let's go back in the house. Your grandmother's waiting on us," she said, unable to reason what thoughts could be racing through her boyfriend's brain right now, but absolutely sure they weren't good ones. After all, she'd seen this expression before. It was his this-is-a-good-day-to-build-a-death-ray face.

He finally turned back to her. "Amy, in light of recent events, I think it would be prudent to take measures to protect you. Therefore, I propose activating the PSA clause of the relationship agreement."

Amy's jaw dropped. "What? The Public Showing of Affection Clause only goes into effect if one party believes the other is being encroached upon by a romantic rival and feels the need to mark their proverbial territory. You can't seriously see Hank as a romantic rival to you?"

"This isn't just about Hank. I'm thinking about the entire weekend. I have 33 cousins, Amy. Seventeen of them are male, eleven are unmarried and nine are currently without longstanding romantic partner." His eyes ran over her. "And you're entire too attractive for your own good."

Amy melted. "Did you just call me pretty?"

Sheldon glared down at her. "Can you focus, please? My point is that I have no wish to have to do battle with every member of my family in order to defend you. If we show overt public affection for each other, they will get the message that you belong to me, which will, in turn, save me a lot of complications down the road."

"I _belong_ to you?" Amy's feminist inclinations began to argue, but she stopped them. _What are you doing? Your boyfriend just asked to engage in physical touching with you in public. What's to argue about?_ She quelled her sudden excitement and somberly faced Sheldon. "Well, your logic _is_ infallible."

"Of course it is."

She nodded, not able to look him in the eye. "Would this clause include my requesting that you wrap your arm around my waist?"

He immediately did so. "Of course."

"And a kiss … on the lips?"

His body jolted as if hit with an electrical shock. "What? Why?" He looked around. "There's no one out here."

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "We don't know who's watching from a window. You could have gorgeous, stud-of-a-cousin next door checking me out right now."

He pondered this for a moment. But, before Amy could get her hopes up, he shook his head. "No need. The only cousin who lives around here is Hank."

Amy sighed in disappointment. But before she could get too mired down in the feeling, Sheldon took her hand and gently pulled her back towards the house. "Come along. Meemaw made cinnamon rolls, and they're getting cold."

Amy grinned as she meekly followed her boyfriend. The PSA Clause was in force, Sheldon had just called her pretty, she was getting to spend an entire afternoon with the glorious Meemaw, and, from the smell wafting from the house, there were delicious cinnamon rolls to be eaten.

All in all, the most perfect day of her life.

**A/N: Thanks again for all of the reviews—or **_**Gracias**_** for those who reviewed in Spanish. Google's translation of them was odd and inappropriately funny, but I appreciated the sentiments expressed nonetheless. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_"The guy who seems like an emotionless robot ... is you, but your relationship with Amy is causing you to transform into a red-blooded man with sexual desires."__  
_**Leonard Hofstadter (TBBT Season 6)**  
_"The Decoupling Fluctuation"_

Of course, all physical affection ended the second they were inside the house. Amy briefly considered manipulating Sheldon into continuing under the pretext that there might be marauding bands of lusty, redneck cousins lurking around every corner, but she was fairly confident he wouldn't fall for so weak a ruse. Besides, her conscience wouldn't allow her to outright lie to her boyfriend.

The front rooms were empty; so she and Sheldon moved into the kitchen where they found Mary and Meemaw busily preparing enough food to feed a small army. Gigantic, boiling pots crowded a gas stove, the aroma of baking bread poured from the oven, mounds of raw vegetables took up all available space on the table, and flour covered the far counter where Meemaw stood kneading bread with the energy of a woman thirty years younger.

"There y'all are," Mary said as she tended to the pots on the stove. "I thought I was gonna have to go out there again. Is Hank still causing mischief?"

Sheldon shook his head. "He went home. Where did you put the cinnamon rolls? Amy would like one, and I find my mouth watering at the thought of devouring my second of the day."

"No more sweets until after lunch, Moon Pie." Meemaw wagged a finger in his direction. "You know the rules. Besides, I got some work for you to do."

Instead of being disappointed, Sheldon washed his hands at the sink before rushing to his grandmother's side with the exuberance of a child at Christmas. "What can I do?"

Meemaw plopped the loaf she'd been kneading into a bread tin and covered it with a dish towel before wiping her floured hands on her floral apron. "We'll wait on this one to rise. But, we need several more loaves made for tomorrow. Get cracking."

"Yes, ma'am!" he said, reaching into a nearby broom closet to pull on a frilly, feminine pink apron that should have made him look ridiculous. But, in Amy's estimation, the garment only accentuated his manly jaw, lanky muscles, and tapered waist.

"Hoo!"

"Pardon, dear?" Mary said.

Amy blushed, mortified by her lusty endocrine system. "Nothing. "

"Well, here's a cinnamon roll for you," Meemaw said, making a little room on the table for Amy to sit down. "Sheldon said you didn't eat breakfast this morning. This should tide you over 'til lunch." She placed the most succulent pastry Amy had ever seen in front of her.

"Thanks," Amy said. She fumbled through her purse and produced two small, wrapped parcels. "I brought a few hostess gifts to show my appreciation for the invitation to the reunion."

Both women hemmed and hawed, but accepted the presents nonetheless. Mary delighted in her little box of Dr. Pepper-flavored candies while Meemaw curiously eyed her UCLA keychain. "Oh, I don't have one from there. How on earth did you know I collect these, honey?"

Sheldon perked up from the corner. "I told her, Meemaw. I also explained that I'd already brought you one from every city in California as well as Texas. Amy cleverly chose one from her place of employment to help complete your collection. I confess I never thought to include universities and the like. Don't worry. I'll send you one from Caltech when I return."

"Well, thank you both. I'm tickled pink," Meemaw said, dropping appreciative kisses on their respective cheeks.

Amy colored under the weight of the compliments—both from her boyfriend and his relatives—and delved into the cinnamon roll. "Oh my goodness," she said, savoring every bite. It was truly the best thing she'd ever tasted. "This is … this is …"

"I know," Sheldon agreed, eyeing the remaining pastry crumbs on her plate with undisguised yearning. "She only makes them when I'm coming." His back stiffened with pride. "I'm her favorite grandchild. As my girlfriend, you get to share in the bounty."

"Now, Sheldon, you know very well I don't have any favorites. I love all of my grandbabies equally. I just find that you're a little more special than the rest." Meemaw gave him a wink. Sheldon grinned and went back to work on the bread while Amy finished her late breakfast.

"Are you the one who taught him to make sour dough bread, Meemaw?" she asked.

"Of course. I also taught his sister, Missy, how to fry green tomatoes and his brother, George Jr., to ... not burb at my table." She shook her head. "That one's a real challenge in the learning department. Not like my moon pie, who excels at just about anything."

Once Amy had finished her food and cleaned her area, Meemaw gave her a quick lesson in the art of snapping green beans and put her to work. It took a while to get the hang of the task, but, once a rhythm had been established, Amy began to enjoy herself. More importantly, she ascertained that the kitchen wasn't just a hive of activity. It was also a fount of information. She learned that the reunion was attended by over sixty people every year. There would be food, games, and fun to be had all around. Meemaw was in charge of organizing as well as cooking the food and had been for more years than anyone could remember. While she was not an actual Cooper by blood, her attendance was as mandatory as if she had been one. After all, Meemaw was loved wherever she went. It also didn't hurt that she was the best cook in four counties, had a keen mind for organization, and a knack for coaxing people to do things they might not otherwise do.

Thus, she and Mary produced most of the food for the event and usually spent the day before tied to the kitchen. Sheldon always came in a day early to lend a hand. This explained today's big block of time on his itinerary entitled "Meemaw".

Additionally, Amy discovered that Meemaw had another daughter besides Mary as well as two sons, thirteen grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. She'd been married to "Pop-Pop" for over thirty years before his death and had never considered remarrying. Last year, she'd sold her home on the other side of town because she couldn't stand being alone in the big empty house anymore. Shortly afterwards, she'd moved in with Mary and currently resided in what had been Sheldon's old room.

"Now, enough about me, dear," Meemaw said, wiping her hands on an accommodating dish towel. "Tell us more about you."

"Well," Amy said, more than aware that she had the full attention of Meemaw as well as Mary. It was daunting. She looked to Sheldon for guidance, but he was too concentrated on kneading his third loaf of bread to offer any help. "I'm a neurobiologist at UCLA. Presently, I'm studying the effects of addiction in animals—most especially primates. I live in Glendale and have for most of my life. I enjoy playing the harp and hanging out with my girlfriends—because, you know, I have those now."

"I see. And how did you meet our Sheldon?" Meemaw asked. "He said it was some kind of dating service?"

"Yes. My mother and I have an agreement that I go on at least one date per year in exchange for her leaving me alone on the subject of my marital status. Experience taught me that using an online dating service made fulfilling that requirement easier for me to manage. In any case, the last date I had was with Sheldon. The rest, as they say, is history."

"Since Sheldon refuses to give us the juicy details, I'm gonna ask you, Amy. Was it love at first sight?" Meemaw grinned devilishly.

Sheldon scoffed. "Amy and I have a relationship of the mind. We are above such silly romantic notions of love." He finished with his last loaf of bread before returning to the kitchen sink to scour his hands.

Amy felt like she'd been slapped. She shouldn't have been surprised by his statement. He'd said all of this before. Truth be told, she'd said it before. It was even spelled out explicitly in the relationship agreement. But, it hadn't been mentioned in the last year and so much had happened in the interim. Sadness and disillusionment welled within her. She'd assumed he'd changed his mind. After all, he'd changed his mind about other things in the relationship agreement like holding hands. But, his blunt declaration made it clear that, while everything might have changed for Amy in terms of their relationship, nothing had changed for Sheldon.

_What if he never loves me? What if he can't? Is what we have now going to be enough for me? What if it isn't?_

Tears bit the back of her eyes. Amy quickly excused herself under the guise of using the toilet and, after getting directions from Mary, Amy locked herself in the bathroom.

_Amy and I have a relationship of the mind. We are above such silly romantic notions of love._

She remembered when she'd felt that way, when it all made logical sense. But, that was before. Amy wasn't sure what had been the catalyst for such a dramatic shift, she only knew she didn't feel that way any longer. Somewhere between girls' nights with Bernadette and Penny and all the date nights with Sheldon, she'd transformed into the kind of person who couldn't be contented with a relationship only of the mind. She wanted more, so much more. Better yet, she wanted that more—whatever it was—to happen with Sheldon Cooper.

_But, what if he doesn't want it? Worse, what if he never does?_

Her mind reeled at the mere prospect. Up until now, she'd assumed that, with patience, baby steps, and a plan, Sheldon could change. After all, she'd changed. Why wouldn't he? Inside, they were the same type of being.

_But, what if we're not?_

She closed her eyes against the hot tears that washed down her cheeks. She loved Sheldon. But, more than that, she admired him, respected him, learned from him, and enjoyed the time they spent together. Never before had she been so stimulated by another person, so able to completely be herself. He accepted her, warts and all. How could she give him less than that in return? But, at the same time, could she stay in a relationship that was only of the mind? She loved Sheldon enough to be patient while he came around to the idea of having a full relationship with her. But that patience wouldn't last forever—it couldn't. _Can I break up with Sheldon if he doesn't change? Do I have the strength?_

Amy had no easy answers. She only knew that, more than anything right now, she wanted to go home. She wanted to lie in her bed in the quiet of her apartment and ponder this until a solution presented itself or, better yet, go over to Penny's and talk this out. Penny would know what to do. She always did.

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her skirt and shot off a quick email to her bestie, explaining the situation and requesting advice. _Yes, Penny will tell me what to do_, she told herself. She washed her face and hands and left the bathroom, intent on returning to the kitchen before anyone deduced something was wrong. However, the sound of her name being said by Meemaw made her pause and, for the first time in her adult life, Amy Farrah Fowler eavesdropped.

"Sheldon, you're being as stubborn as a mule. Amy's your girlfriend and, according to you, it was your decision to make her so. Now you're trying to tell me you don't love her?"

"Meemaw, you know how I feel about romantic love. It's illogical. I'm a man of science. Logic is my life."

"Love don't work that way. It happens whether you want it to or not. Look at me and your pop-pop. I was gonna be a nurse and spend the rest of my life as a spinster caring for the sick and wounded. Then, one day, I go to the store for my mother to buy sweet potatoes and there stands your pop-pop. Next thing I knew, I was married with four kids. It might not have been my ideal dream, but that doesn't mean I wasn't happy."

"You gave up your aspirations to be with him, Meemaw. Who says your contributions to nursing might not have revolutionized the discipline? You could have been the next Florence Nightingale if you hadn't quit. And now, knowing that, you're advising me to forsake my dream of a Nobel Prize because of _love_? You can't be serious."

"Love is sacrifice, honey. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth it. But, no, I'm not telling you to give up on your dreams. You could still achieve them and so much more, Sheldon. Look at all your pop-pop was able to accomplish in the years we were married. I was his help-mate as well as his wife and the mother of his children."

"Am I to understand that you're saying I should ask Amy to give up her career ambitions to take care of me and any children I foist upon her? Absolutely not. I might not always appreciate the complexities of her field of research, but it doesn't mean I'm unaware of its significance in the world of neurobiology. Amy is one of the leading people in her field just like I am in mine. Yet, you would have us both throwing away all that potential for a white picket fence, matching SUVs and 2.5 children? I think not, Meemaw. I respect Amy and myself way too much for that. Her talents and abilities exceed far beyond that of merely being Mrs. Sheldon Cooper—as well they should."

"Society has changed a lot since I was young. You and Amy aren't facing the same obstacles. You could have it all. The science, the awards, marriage, and the children. It's easier to juggle that kind of stuff now."

"I won't do that to her, Meemaw."

"But, what if she wants it, Sheldon?" Amy heard Mary ask. "Have you considered that?"

There was a long pause. Too long. Every second was a knife stabbing at her heart. Finally, Amy couldn't take the silence anymore and pushed open the kitchen door.

"I'm back," she announced to no one in particular. Sheldon was flushed and obviously upset. He also refused to look at her. Mary was intent on the stove, and Meemaw was frowning at her grandson.

"Is everything OK?" she asked, trying to look like she hadn't just been listening to everything.

"Of course," Meemaw answered. "You done snapping all those beans?"

Amy nodded, keeping her eyes on Sheldon.

"Good. Sheldon can show you how to shell peas. There's a whole bushel on the back porch. You two can work out there to get out of all the heat. Besides, there isn't enough space in this kitchen to cuss a cat."

Sheldon took off his apron and was out the door without a word of protest. Amy followed. They soon settled on the back porch, their feet dangling over the edge and a wooden bucket of fat, green peapods between them.

"Sheldon, is everything OK?" she asked, wondering if he would tell her what had happened. Amy desperately wanted to talk about this. She wanted to thank him for all the wonderful things he'd said back there. It was gratifying to hear how much he respected her and her work. It was also gave her a rare glimpse of the way his complicated mind operated. Perhaps it wasn't that Sheldon didn't love her or want to marry her, after all. Maybe it was that he wasn't enough for her.

Her mind whirled with the consequences. If it was only that he wanted more for her, she could—

"I'm fine. Let's just get to work. There is plenty to be done before lunch. I don't want us to get any further behind on the itinerary. Missy will be home soon from work. Her presence always slows our progress. If George Jr. shows up, too, it'll all go to heck in a hand basket. Then, Meemaw and Mom will be up to wee hours of the morning trying to get it all finished. I can't have that. They won't complain, but it's too much stress on a woman Meemaw's age."

Amy nodded and pointed to the green veggies. "So, what do we do?"

Sheldon picked up an oblong shell, holding it between his fingers. "You take the pod like this, placing your fingers at the end of the curve. Squeeze gently until you hear a slight popping sound. Once you do, pry the pod open and run your finger along the husk until all the peas run out." He placed a great, metal bowl between them. "You can put the peas in here and toss the empty husks into that bucket." He pointed at a trash pail on the ground at their feet.

Amy nodded and tried to follow his instructions. It seemed a fairly easy task to accomplish in theory, but the practice of it proved complicated. Every time she tried to crack the pod, she used too much force and ended up crushing it instead. When she'd failed for the third time, Sheldon took pity on her and showed her again. Once more, she tried. She managed to get the pod opened, but only one pea made it into the metal bowl unscathed.

"I'm hopeless at this."

"No," Sheldon said, making quick work of the peapod in his hands. "It just takes a little practice."

Once his tossed away the empty husk, he took another and grabbed her hand as well. She lurched in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he said, jerking away from her. "I had no right to touch you."

"No, Sheldon. You just surprised me is all. Please," she said, holding out her hands for him, "show me. I want to learn."

He nodded, enveloping her fingers in his. As always, the first thing she noticed was the heat of his touch. Her hands absorbed it with the giddiness of a school girl with her first microscope. The second thing she noticed was how much her hands felt alive in his. His grip was firm and magical as he showed her how to hold the pod and move her fingers along the edge, sensing for the ridge down the center.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, looking up at her.

Amy was lost in his eyes. She'd always considered the notion of being "lost" in someone's eyes as ridiculous and melodramatic. Now, she knew better. Sheldon's blue orbs were an ocean that she could have easily floated in all day.

_He respects me. He respects my work. He wants to be with me, but he doesn't want to do it if it will cost me my career._ Her heart slammed in her chest. _And I love him._

Neither moved. No one spoke. They simply maintained eye contact as their joined hands remained locked around the unopened peapod. It was the single most erotic moment of Amy's life.

Sheldon licked his lip. Her eyes followed his tongue as it cut through the seam of his mouth and darted deliciously over his bottom lip. She envied that tongue. She wanted to be that tongue.

"Sheldon …" she weakly moaned, unable to breathe, think, or focus on anything but his mouth. If he didn't kiss her right now, she was going to die. She was sure of it.

"Amy …" he replied.

Her gaze moved up to meet his again. She immediately recognized his expression. It was identical to one he'd worn earlier while looking at the cinnamon roll. It was pure longing. He leaned towards her ever so slightly as though she were a magnet and he were a piece of metal, as though he had no control over himself at all. She unconsciously mimicked his movement, putting herself mere centimeters away from his beckoning lips.

"Amy, we shouldn't," he croaked, still edging towards her with a wide, fearful expression.

"Yes, we should," she said. "Don't you dare stop now."

Then, she closed her eyes and the world went away as she waited on the man she loved to kiss her for the very first time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_"Oh, you poor dear. Your ovaries are squirting so much goofy juice into your brains you don't even know which way is up."  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 6)**__  
"The Egg Salad Equivalency"_

_Did I break him?_

When a full minute passed and her lips remained unkissed, Amy looked up to find that her previously amorous boyfriend was now anything but. In fact, he'd retreated as far away from her as the porch would allow. A guttural, choking noise issued forth from his throat, followed by a series of heavy pants. In. Out. In. Out. Like a stone, he sat there, eyes clamped shut and fists clenched in his lap as he mumbled strange words over and over to himself in a formulaic cadence.

_Yep, I broke him._

"Sheldon?" she probed cautiously as she got to her feet. _Please let him be all right._ Amy didn't know what she'd do otherwise. There was also the issue of how she'd explain this to Mary or Meemaw. _You see, we were about to kiss and then he just … broke._ The mere thought left her in a near panic. "Sheldon, are you all right? Speak to me. Please?"

"Kohlinar," he bit out before returning to his bizarre ritual.

The second the word left his mouth, all concern for him vanished. "You're using _Star Wars_ to keep from kissing me?" she snarled.

His eyes snapped open. "It's _Star Trek_, Amy. Someone with your advanced education should be able to differentiate between the two greatest science fiction franchises in the history of mankind."

"And someone with your advanced education should be able to differentiate between reality and make believe," she countered. "Kohlinar isn't real."

He yelped in disbelief. "Kohlinar _is _real. It's a highly-developed technique Vulcans employee to suppress their baser emotions. These emotions, if left unchecked, can cause serious damage."

"Really?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "So 'damage' would have been done if you'd kissed me?"

"Absolutely."

"Damage to what, exactly?"

"To you, to me, to our relationship, to the relationship agreement, and, basically, the world at large." He sighed as though it were taking all of his patience just to talk to her. "Amy, we're both highly emotional right now. Unbridled emotion is the impediment to pure logic. Once you've calmed down, you'll understand my reasoning and thank me for my restraint."

"You actually think I'm going to thank you for not kissing me when it's what we both wanted?"

He body spasmed at her blunt question, and he closed his eyes to seemingly quell the emotional storm. When he seemed to have a better hold on himself, he took a deep breath, looked at her, and said, "I'm sensing some anger coming from you."

"You think?" Amy retorted.

"You would profit from the techniques of kohlinar yourself. It has helped Vulcans suppress their emotions for years. Now, if you'll sit down, I'll be glad to show you how it is accomplished. Then, you'll see the benefits for yourself."

Amy wanted to dump the entire container of peapods on his head and then beat him with the empty bucket. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge that he'd only take the action as further proof of his ridiculous theories. She decided to appeal to his logical side—if indeed he even had one at this point.

"Sheldon, we all have our vices. On more than one occasion, I, myself, have become lost within the pages of a trashy romance novel. But, at no time while I was enjoying the tale's undulating muscles and ripped bodices did I forget that it was just a story. Pirates named Carlos with perfectly white teeth, a pet raccoon, and a leather-encased bottom one can bounce quarters off of aren't real!"

"Pirates? What do they have to do with this?" Sheldon said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Amy gritted her teeth. "My point is that Vulcans aren't real and neither is freaking kohlinar. They're fiction, Sheldon!"

And, with that, she stormed away, leaving her bewildered boyfriend sitting on the back porch staring after her. She stomped down the side of the house furious, ashamed, and rejected … again. _I need to do something, talk to someone before I get in that car and drive away for good._ Her mind raced through her options._ Wait a minute. Penny!_ She checked her phone to see if her bestie had emailed her back yet.

"Nope," she said, dejectedly. She made it around the front of the house, coming to rest against a panel of green siding. Amy wanted to call or text her friend, but as Penny was working a double shift today, that wasn't a good idea. Penny wouldn't have time to get into a problem of this magnitude, much less be able to offer a reasonable solution.

"Well, looks like you're going to have to deal with this one yourself, Fowler."

She closed her eyes, bumping the back of her head a few times against the side of the house out of exasperation. _I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm calm._ Then, everything that had just happened came back to her again in full force. _The hell with calm_, she thought before releasing a screech of pure frustration. Surprisingly, that action proved immensely satisfying. She smiled to herself and then screeched again.

"You have _got_ to be Amy."

Horrified, her eyes popped open to see a tall, brunette beauty with Sheldon's baby blues and a saucy grin that was uniquely her own. It took no time at all to deduce who she was.

"You're Missy."

Sheldon's twin sister nodded as she stepped closer, her penetrating gaze seeming to take in everything. "And, unless I miss my guess, you're mad enough at Shelly to want to run him over with a tractor."

Amy panicked. The last thing she needed was to have her boyfriend's entire family learn of their romantic problems. The mortification would be too much. She pasted on a wide smile. "Mad at him? What on earth would give you that impression? Sheldon and I are a perfectly contented couple. We never fight. Really!"

Missy cocked a defiant eyebrow in her direction. "You're a terrible liar. Do you know that?"

Amy wilted. "Unfortunately, yes. It's one of my greatest faults."

"Honesty is a rare quality. Don't you dare change that. Besides, Shelly has a unique way of pissing people off. I'd have recognized his handiwork anywhere." She grinned. "Well, it's comforting to know that my brother is just like every other man when it comes to driving a girlfriend crazy."

"I'm beginning to think it's a class they teach boys straight out of kindergarten," Amy muttered.

Missy laughed. "That's the spirit, honey. Embrace the fury. Before you know it, we'll have you spray-painting his name on overpasses and burning his favorite stuff. You have no idea how satisfying that is."

"But, he's your brother. What about family loyalty?"

Missy shrugged. "'Ho's before bros, I say. Besides, I had a hard day, I just found out my boyfriend's been cheating, and I've gotta ton of work ahead of me helping Mom and Meemaw with the food for tomorrow. I've earned a little entertainment." She beckoned Amy closer with her hand. "Now, why don't you come in out of the heat? It's over a hundred degrees out here and you're wearing a sweater. I'm surprised you haven't toppled over from sunstroke."

"OK," Amy agreed. "It _is_ hot out here."

"Follow me to my room. I'll change clothes, and you can tell me what Shelly did to get you all fired up. Then, you can spend the rest of the day hanging with me and ignoring him. Believe me, it'll drive him nuts."

"Just my luck, he'll completely miss the fact that I'm ignoring him and think he's in the clear with me."

"Nah, I'm really good at this. Stick with me and we'll have him begging you for forgiveness," she said, ushering Amy inside.

Once they were safely ensconced in Missy's room, the interrogation began. "So, you gonna tell me what he did?"

Amy blushed. "If you don't mind, it's something I'd rather keep between Sheldon and myself."

"All right," Missy said, changing from her work clothes into a pair of shorts and a light t-shirt that had Amy wishing she'd worn a similar outfit herself. "Penny said you were an unusual one. But, I suspect you'd have to be to date Shelly."

"You talk to Penny?"

"Of course. Great girl. We met when I visited Pasadena a while back. We've kept in touch ever since. It's how I get the real scoop on what my brother's been up to. It's also how I knew you and I were going to be friends."

"You want to be friends … with me?" she asked, astounded. Usually girls like Missy didn't talk to Amy, much less want to be friends with her. _Hmm … maybe all those girls' nights with Penny have finally started paying off. I'm cool by association. Do you hear that, world? Amy Farrah Fowler is cool! Wow. Who would have thought it?_ "Really? Why?"

Missy laughed. "Honey, anyone who can make Sheldon Cooper do things he doesn't want to do without having to twist his balls off is a friend in my book."

"Well, I'm not as proficient at that as you might think," Amy said, remembering the kiss that wasn't on the back porch.

"Don't worry. With practice, you will be. We'll start with the silent-but-deadly treatment."

"What is that? How does it work?"

Missy winked and leaned in. "Here's what you do …"

— —

Missy was no Penny, but Amy knew they'd be friends nevertheless. Sheldon's sister had an infectious laugh, a quick mind, and carefree nature. In some ways, she was the polar opposite of her brother. Where he was controlled and cautious, she was a reckless, free spirit willing to try anything at least once. But, the twins did share some similarities. They were both deeply devoted to their mother and grandmother, had a secure sense of themselves, and were stubborn to a fault. Missy wasn't as intelligent as Sheldon. She had no patience for mathematical equations and lacked the capacity for appreciating the higher echelons of science. Nor was she gifted with Sheldon's eidetic memory or thirst for knowledge. But in areas where he suffered deficiencies—like picking up on sarcasm or other nonverbal cues—Missy proved to be crafty and clever. Most importantly, she knew just what it took to drive a boyfriend to the very edge of insanity.

And, for that, Amy worshiped her.

Their planning session was brought to an end by Mary popping her head in. "Good. You're home, Missy. Amy, Sheldon's been looking for you."

"We've just been getting to know each other, Mom. Do you and Meemaw need help?"

"No, we're breaking for lunch. You girls come eat, all right?" Mary said, heading off.

"On our way," Amy promised.

They filed out of Missy's room and into the little dining area off from the living room. Sheldon was already seated at the round, wooden table surrounded by matching wooden chairs. He seemed uneasy to see Amy coming from his sister's room.

"Howdy, Shelly," Missy said, kissing her brother on the cheek. "Glad to see all that rocket scientist stuff didn't keep you too busy to attend the reunion."

"Hello to you as well, Missy." He wiped her kiss from his cheek with a napkin. "My presence at the reunion is a dictate from our mother, and I'm a theoretical physicist, not a rocket scientist. All of this you very well know. Now, leave me be. I'm in no mood for your teasing today." He turned to look at Amy warily. "Amy, are you feeling better?"

Amy smiled to confuse him. "I'm fine."

Missy laughed. Sheldon frowned, his eyes shooting suspiciously from his sister to his girlfriend. Before another word could be said, Mary and Meemaw came from the kitchen, bearing a platter heaped with sandwiches, a large bowl of potato salad and glasses of sweet tea for everyone. As the older women took their seats, Sheldon looked at the chair next to him and then to Amy. His intent was clear. She smiled wider before taking the chair next to Mary, deliberately leaving the vacant one next to Sheldon available for Missy. He frowned again.

"Missy, you usually sit next to Mom," he pointed out.

"No assigned seating today, Shelly. We have a guest, remember?" Missy said, laying her napkin across her lap.

"But, as Amy is my girlfriend, her place should be next to me."

"Apparently, she'd rather sit next to Mom," Missy gleefully answered.

"Is there a problem?" Mary asked, looking around the table.

Amy kept the smile on her face, trying to appear oblivious to what was going on. After a chorus of "no ma'ams" from Sheldon and Missy, Mary compelled them all the take hands and delivered a prayer. Amy bowed her head as directed, but spent the prayer fortifying herself against what was to come. _Here's hoping this works_, she thought.

Once the grace was said and the food was passed around, Missy kept up a constant stream of chatter about her job and gossip she'd heard around town about people they knew. Sheldon spent the meal silently consuming a ham sandwich and observing Amy. Amy knew this because every time she looked up, he intently stared her down. Under other circumstances, she might have found it romantic or arousing. But as she knew he was only trying to figure out what was going on, she tried not to let it affect her. She laughed heartily at Missy's stories and joined in when the conversation turned to other topics.

Once the meal was done, she volunteered to help Missy to clear the table and do the dishes. Sheldon was put back to work shelling the peas. But, he didn't take this development lying down.

"Amy, you can't assist Missy with the dishes. You're shelling peas with me, remember?"

Missy, Mary, and Meemaw started taking dishes back to the kitchen. Amy picked up the empty plates in preparation of joining them. "Sheldon, I'm sure you can do it a lot faster without me. It seems I am all thumbs when it comes to that particular task anyway."

He grabbed her arm as she tried to walk past. It startled them both. He released her. "Amy," he said, clearing his throat, "now that you're calm and rational, perhaps it might behoove us both to discuss what happened."

"Are you willing to admit that kohlinar isn't real?"

"What? No!"

She kept the smile pasted on her face, just as Missy had directed. "Then, we have nothing to discuss." With a shrug, she left him standing there.

**A/N: Don't kill me for not having them kiss. Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Better? Good. In order to make real progress, one must oftentimes take a few steps back. Don't worry. I got a plan. You should just understand that this story isn't a sprint; it's a marathon. So, settle in and be patient. And, if that doesn't work to soothe your ire, I offer a quote from my favorite movie, "The Princess Bride":**

"**Don't rush me, sonny. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles."**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_"Gosh, Amy. I'm sensing a little hostility. Is it maybe because like Sheldon's work, your sex life is also theoretical?"  
__**Bernadette Rostenkowski-Wolowitz (TBBT Season 6)**__  
"The Parking Lot Escalation"_

The rest of the day flew by in a flurry of food prep, girl talk, and tawdry mind games. Amy followed Missy's advice to the letter, which left Sheldon in a constant state of frustration and confusion. Finally, he seemed to retreat into himself and said very little.

Amy's first instinct was to let him off the hook, but Missy refused to allow that.

"No, honey. You've got him on the ropes. If you cave now, he won't learn his lesson."

Amy nodded, but still couldn't help feeling bad every time she saw him. At times like these, he looked so much like a child that she wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and comfort him. But, Missy was correct. He needed to understand what happened on the porch wasn't all right. As the evening wound to a close, all preparations for the next day's festivities were completed. To celebrate, Mary ordered a pizza and sent Missy and Amy to go pick it up.

Once they were in the car, Missy handed Amy a plastic bag.

"What is this?"

"It's for tomorrow. You should wear it. It'll drive the final nail in the coffin for my brother."

Amy frowned, looking uneasily at the blue dress in her hands. "I don't know. On more than one occasion, I've enjoyed having Penny douse me in whorish makeup. But, I would prefer to not garb myself like a common street walker. Not only would I be highly uncomfortable, but I doubt it will affect Sheldon the way you believe. If anything, he'll lose all respect for me."

"Believe me; he'll be affected and too busy with his tongue hanging out of his mouth to worry about losing respect for you."

"Sheldon may be like men in some ways, but not this one. Penny dresses scantily in front of him all the time and he's oblivious. Plus, I'll be meeting many of his relatives tomorrow. I would make a bad impression by allowing my many assets to be on display for any to see." She shook her head, holding the bag out to Missy. "I'm sorry. I cannot accept this."

Missy pulled into a parking place outside a restaurant called Moe's Pizza Palace. Turning off the engine, she looked over at Amy. "Look, you're going to have to trust me. Not only am I well aware of the fact that you don't dress like a hoochie, but I'm offended you would think I'd own an outfit like that. You forget I'm a lady. Plus, I live with the second coming of Mother Teresa. You think my mother would allow me to have such a garment in her house? Besides, this dress serves two purposes. In addition to getting my brother's attention, it'll also prevent you from dying of heatstroke. You can't wear long-sleeved shirts and a sweater tomorrow. The reunion takes place in a big field on the other side of town and it's going to be 104 degrees before lunch. I don't know about California, but, in Texas, that's sweltering."

Amy took the bag back, still eyeing the contents uneasily. "I'll look at it in the morning and make a decision then. Will that suffice?"

"Absolutely. And, tomorrow, I'll be ready to hear your apology for ever doubting me in the first place." She laughed and got out of the car to pick up the pizza.

Amy fingered the fabric of the dress, loving the feel of the light cotton. _Maybe this will work after all._

Missy returned with the pizza, and they made their way back to Mary's house. They discussed the rest of the plan for Sheldon, which included continuing to put him in a deep freeze until tomorrow morning. They were pulling into the Cooper yard when Sheldon's sister turned to her.

"Remember," Missy said, "he's going to try everything to get you to talk to him once he gets you alone at the motel. You'll want to, but you've gotta stay strong and stay silent. Spending the night stewing in his own juices will do him a world of good. I'd worry about him trying to seduce you into forgiving him, but we're talking about Sheldon here."

Amy nodded, thinking how wonderful it would be if Sheldon did something like that. _I'd forgive him anything._

Missy grinned. "If a woman doesn't show her man who's boss in the beginning, he'll run all over her."

"Is that what happened to you?"

The grin vanished. "On more than one occasion. But, we're not talking about me."

Amy wanted to offer advice, but as she was new to the romance game and wasn't sure what had happened between Missy and her boyfriend beyond the fact that he'd cheated on her, she didn't know what she could say that would make a difference. Still, she resolved to give the matter some careful thought and to observe Sheldon's sister over the next two days. There might be something she could recommend. It was least she could do to recompense her for all the help she'd given her today.

After a hearty meal of pizza, fellowship and a bunch of humorous stories from Meemaw involving her various grandchildren, Sheldon and Amy prepared to return to the motel. Amy bid everyone goodnight and thanked them warmly for their hospitality. Sheldon, on the other hand, said very little and tried to leave quickly. However, Meemaw wasn't having that. Before he could escape, she wrapped him up in her arms and held on tight. He seemed to struggle at first, but soon sank into the warmth of her embrace with the fervor of a dehydrated man being offered water. Amy felt another pang of guilt. Maybe Missy's plan was too much for someone like Sheldon.

Finally, Meemaw patted him on the back, whispered something in his ear that seemed to perk him up, and pulled away. She also handed him a Tupperware container.

"Cinnamon rolls for later, Moon Pie," she said, touching his cheek with affection.

"Cinnamon rolls?" Missy squeaked. "Crap! I forgot Sheldon was here and what that means." She tore off into the kitchen, obviously in search of the pastry delights.

"Melissa Cooper, you watch your language in my house," Mary commanded as she followed her daughter into the kitchen. "Jesus can hear you."

Amy looked back around, realizing only she and Meemaw were left in the living room.

"He went outside to wait in the car like I told him," Meemaw said, in answer to Amy's unspoken question.

_Is she going to yell at me for ignoring her grandson? Or demand to know what's going on?_ Amy wasn't sure what she'd say if Meemaw did either of those things. But, instead of any of that, Sheldon's grandmother hugged her.

Amy relaxed into the embrace, once more overwhelmed by the sense of healing and serenity the woman's touch seemed to hold. Enfolding her close, Meemaw whispered in her ear. "Take it easy on him, Amy. My moon pie is a stubborn one, but he loves you."

Amy jolted in her arms, but Meemaw held tight.

"He does love you. He just doesn't realize it because he's too scared to admit it—even to himself. Sheldon hasn't had the easiest life. It's always hard not being like everyone else and that boy sticks out like a mustang in a herd of mules. He has from the time he was old enough to speak." She pulled away, holding onto Amy's shoulders so she could look at her. "Everyone wants to be accepted for who they are—Sheldon more than anyone. But, he's never gotten that—not even by those in his own family. People can be cruel when it comes to things they don't understand, and he's quite an enigma. So, he's been hurt a lot. To cope, he's built walls. He thinks they'll protect him from the hurt and maybe they do. But that kind of secure world is often a lonely one. It'll take a special woman to knock those walls down and coax him into coming out. I'm hoping you'll prove to be that woman."

Amy couldn't stop the tear that fell down her cheek as she looked into Meemaw's wise face. "I want to be that for him too. But, he doesn't make it easy."

She chuckled. "Amy, if it were easy, anyone could do it. Just promise me you'll stop these games. Missy may think she's helping you, but she isn't. It's only making things worse. Just talk to Sheldon. You're smart like him. You can speak his language. Make him understand. Tell him what you want. If there's a way he can get it for you, he will."

"And if he can't?"

Meemaw shrugged. "I've already seen you work miracles with him. You gonna let a little word like 'can't' stand in your way?"

"No," Amy said, grinning.

"Good. Now, I'm not sure what the trouble is between you two, but I want to see it all worked out by tomorrow so we can all have a good time at the reunion. All right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Amy said, just like she'd heard anyone else say to Meemaw today.

"Good. Now, sweet dreams, honey, and drive safe."

Amy walked out to the car. She still wasn't sure what she was going to do to deal with her problems with Sheldon, but she knew one thing for certain, she wasn't going to do anything to let Meemaw down.

— —

Silence reigned during the drive back to the motel. It was only when they were about to enter their rooms that Sheldon spoke.

"I think we should have our talk now," he said.

Amy nodded. "Give me a few minutes of privacy. I'm sweaty and would like to shower. Can we meet in my room in an hour?"

Sheldon quickly agreed and they went their separate ways. Amy used her time well, showering and changing into her favorite pink cotton nightgown and a light robe. She cranked up the air conditioner as the heat was becoming oppressive. She'd just finished blow-drying her hair when she got a text from Penny.

"Got your email. Sry to hear Sheldon's being a jerk. Work is hell or I'd call. Check in the morning & I'll have some advice."

Amy smiled and quickly texted back.

"Tks, but don't worry about it. I'm going to try to talk to him. If it doesn't work, I'll let you know tomorrow and you can tell me what to do then."

She brushed her hair and came out of the bathroom. Since there was another fifteen minutes before the hour would be up and she knew Sheldon was going to arrive exactly on time, Amy flicked on the television and scrolled through the channels. When she came across a show featuring a man who looked just like that handsome, roguish actor from _Castle_, she paused. She wasn't sure what the man was doing running around like that, but she was spellbound watching him do it.

Until a sequence of knocks on her door interrupted her, that is. Her name repeated at the end of each knock told her it was her boyfriend. Nervous, she hit the button to turn off the TV. Instead, she missed and hit the one marked "mute" instead. When the knocks started again, she groaned, threw the remote on her bed, and hurried over to let Sheldon in.

"Hello, Sheldon," she said, moving out of the way for him to enter.

He came in and held out a brown paper bag at her.

She closed the door before taking the parcel in her hands. "What's this?"

"Isn't it a proper protocol to bring a gift when a boyfriend apologizes to his girlfriend? Penny led me to believe that it is, and you seemed to like the tiara last time."

"You're apologizing?"

"I fail to see how I've done anything wrong. I employed kohlinar to prevent us from making a terrible mistake. But Leonard said that Penny said that you said I was being a jerk, so I denoted that a gift was the only solution to easing your ire."

Amy peered into the bag. "It's a six-pack of Yoo-hoo," she blurted.

He shrugged. "The Quickie Mart is the only thing open around here within walking distance. Besides, that's your favorite drink."

"No, it's yours."

"But, you always have it in your refrigerator," he argued.

"In case you come over. Not because it's my favorite drink."

Sheldon grimaced. "I see." He pivoted around and opened the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To get you a present you'll like so you'll stop being mean to me."

He said it as though it was the most natural thing in the world. It was annoying and heartbreaking at the same time. "Wait, Sheldon. You don't have to get me a present."

He shut the door with an audible sigh of relief. "Good. Because the only other viable options were beef jerky and slushies. I didn't think you'd like either one of those." He walked over to one of the chairs placed in the corner and made himself comfortable. A minute passed before he looked up at her expectantly. "Amy," he chided, "I'm a guest in your room. Aren't you going to offer me a beverage?"

She wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Instead, she pulled one of the cold bottles from the bag and presented it to him. Amy put the others away in the mini-fridge adjacent to the television and sat down in the chair next to him.

"Now that we're done with that unfortunate state of affairs, I want to—"

Amy held up a hand to stop him. "Sheldon, at no time did I say I wasn't angry at you anymore. I'm sorry you thought I was being mean to you. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

He smiled. "That's all right, Amy. I forgive you. Now, we should—"

"Just because I apologized for hurting your feelings doesn't mean you don't have to apologize to me for hurting mine."

"How on earth did _I_ hurt _your_ feelings?"

"You'd rather hide behind cheap science fiction than kiss me, Sheldon. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Cheap science fiction? Amy, I would have you know that kohlinar has been used by Vulcans for centuries to quell their homicidal tendencies. It revolutionized their society."

"That may very well be," Amy retorted. "But it doesn't make it any less the product of fiction than it was this afternoon. Gene Roddenberry, the creator of _Star Trek_, made all of that up."

He inhaled sharply as though she'd struck him. "Gene Roddenberry was a genius!"

Amy could see this discussion was spiraling out of control and decided to take things in a different direction. Meemaw was right. She was as smart as Sheldon, and Sheldon was a logical person. Therefore, the only way to get through to him was to do so in a logical manner.

"My point is not that Vulcans, kohlinar, and Gene Roddenberry aren't all wonderful things. They are." She watched him relax back into his chair. "However, as effective as kohlinar is for Vulcan society, the problem with your supposition is that you, in fact, are not Vulcan."

"Just because I'm not Vulcan doesn't mean I can't learn from their civilization."

"But, as a human, it would be impossible for you to hold yourself to their standards. It would be like the Flash challenging you to a foot race. There is no way you'd be able to keep up."

He scowled. "Amy, you're mixing science fiction and comic books. Don't do that. It's tacky."

"OK. We'll stick with science fiction. Vulcans don't have the same chemical makeup as humans. This is a fact. Therefore, what works for them won't work for a human. Look how Mr. Spock had such a hard time with this kind of stuff on the show."

"Yes, and like Mr. Spock, I often find myself overwhelmed with emotion. Kohlinar is the only way to suppress these feelings and live a cleaner, safer life." He raised his bottle of Yoo-hoo to his lips to take a swig.

"So, you're telling me Mr. Spock never kissed a woman?"

The bottle paused. "Of course he did."

_Now we're getting somewhere._ "And did he use kohlinar to block himself from doing it?"

"Of course not. But he was under mind control at the time. He wasn't himself."

_Or not._ Amy took a deep breath and started again. "Did he ever get married or have a girlfriend? Was he ever in love?"

"Yes, but he only married because it was it was Vulcan tradition. In the end, he was primarily alone."

"And is this what you want? To be alone?"

He gave a breathy laugh. "I'm not alone. I have my friends, my family … and you."

"You could also have so much more. If you'd only let yourself," she said softly, catching his gaze.

He looked at her for a long while before turning away and taking a gulp of his drink. "My life is fine the way it is." He put the bottle on the table and pushed it away. "Why must you always make things difficult?"

"You think I'm deliberately making things difficult for you?"

"Yes."

It was too much. Amy got to her feet, unable to stop despair from taking her over. _This is hopeless. _Everything was.

Sheldon apparently heard her sniffling back tears because he jumped to his feet and rushed over to her. "Amy, are you crying?"

"I am. What else can I do?"

"Well, stop it."

She glared at him. "You may want to suppress all of your emotions, but I certainly don't have to. I don't want to be a Vulcan, Sheldon. I like being human." She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. "You know, it's not easy being your girlfriend. You make things hard for me, too. I have to tolerate a lot of hurt feelings, hours of science fiction I don't really like, make sacrifices, and put myself through situations I would rather avoid. But, I do it … for you."

"Amy—"

"No, you need to hear this. I know you don't understand what happened on the back porch today or why I'm upset. Well, let me tell you. I'm mad because once again I put myself out there and you left me hanging. You didn't kiss me, and that kind of rejection coming from my boyfriend—a man who is supposed to care about me—is too much to take. I appreciate and accept your limitations, Sheldon. I'm willing to be patient and to let you take the time you need to get used to being in a relationship with me. I don't want to push you or force you to do something you don't want to do. I want you to _want_ to be with me."

"I do want to be with you. I just don't want to kiss you."

Amy closed her eyes briefly to the pain his frank statement caused. Then, she walked over to the door, putting her hand on the knob, and looked at him. "You can lie to yourself all you want, Sheldon Cooper. But, you wanted to kiss me today. I know it. You know it. Now, we're either going to move forward or we're going to break up. The choice is yours. However, if you choose to remain my boyfriend, this relationship is going to be a two-way street. You're going to have to meet me halfway and learn to compromise. You're going to have to compensate for me the way I compensate for you." She opened the door. "If you can't do that, maybe you should leave now."

If this were a romance novel, this would be the point where the hero would have swaggered over, taken her in his beefy arms, slammed the door shut and kissed her within an inch of her life before sweeping her off to bed. But, this wasn't a romance novel and nothing brought that point home more than the raw panic evident on her boyfriend's face. He scanned the room, obviously unsure what to say or do. Amy wanted to help him, to soothe his worry, but she wouldn't do it. He was going to have to do this one all on his own. Sheldon's eyes caught on the television, and he grabbed the remote off the bed.

"Why are you watching this?" He gestured to the show blinking across the screen.

She shrugged, more than a little insulted that he wasn't going to answer her at all. "The guy from _Castle_ is on it. I don't know what the program is. I just liked watching him."

"This is Joss Whedon's _Firefly_. Its brilliant writing and gifted actors have made it an instant science fiction classic."

_Yep, he's going to try to ignore the problem._ "Sheldon, perhaps it would be better if you just—"

"Oh, goody. It's an all-night _Firefly_ marathon. The actor you enjoy is named Nathan Fillion. He plays Captain Mal Reynolds. He's like a space pirate. You like pirates, right? At least, that's what you said before. Mal doesn't have a pet raccoon or anything, but he's still interesting to watch." He shrugged and looked away. "We could watch … together … if you wanted.

Then, the full force of what Sheldon was doing hit her. This was his attempt at compromise. She smiled, feeling her heart melt in her chest. "I'd like that," she said.

"Great," he said, making himself comfortable on the bed. He waved at her. "Shut the door."

Amy did so and joined him. She was keenly aware that this was the first time she was in a bed with Sheldon—even if it was for the most platonic of reasons—but this fact seemed to have escaped him. He talked nonstop, detailing all the facets of the show, going over the names of the characters as well as providing pertinent information on their backgrounds.

"If you like the show, I have the entire series on DVD. You could borrow it or we could spend a whole day watching it together when we get back to Pasadena."

Amy nodded. "I'd like that."

He turned back to the television, becoming engrossed. Amy settled back against the pillows. The cold temperature in the room had her pulling up the covers. As the show rambled on, the stress of the day seemed to wear away and her exhaustion from last night and this morning finally caught up with her. But, she didn't ask Sheldon to leave. All too soon, he'd announce that it was his bedtime and leave her. For now, she just wanted to soak in all the time with him she could.

She soon became engrossed in the show herself, laughing at the fast dialogue between the characters. Sheldon was right. This was good. She relaxed.

Then, he took her hand. Only, this time, it was different. He didn't just hold it; he laced their fingers together, making the touch far more intimate than she'd ever experienced. Sheldon's eyes remained firmly locked on the television, but his thumb played havoc rubbing seductively over their joined hands. A delightful shiver raced through her.

"Amy?" he said, still looking forward.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're my girlfriend."

She smiled. "I'm glad to be your girlfriend, Sheldon."

He glanced over at her, smiled, and then turned back to the show. Nothing more was said. They just watched television and held hands for the rest of the evening. Amy supposed if this were a romance novel, the heroine would have been disappointed. But, this wasn't a romance novel, this was reality.

And, for Amy, this was enough.

**A/N: See? I gave you two chapters for the price of one. Now, it's your turn to write. Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_"The Lord never gives us more than we can handle. Luckily, He blessed me with two other children who are as dumb as soup."_  
**Mary Cooper (TBBT Season 1)**  
_"The Luminous Fish Effect"_

"I may as well be naked."

Amy grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Missy's present from the night before turned out to be a sleeveless, tube-top sundress. Now, after putting it on, all Amy could think was that the amount of her skin visible bordered on the indecent. The squared bodice was fitted with spaghetti straps on each side that, once tied, fell in delicate bows along the peaks of her shoulders. It also showed her bra straps, which only made things worse.

She surveyed herself from the side. "Yep, my bosom is positively beckoning in this."

Of course, the garment wasn't completely unacceptable. The soft, sky-blue fabric was embroidered with the sweetest little white daisies across the top of the bodice and along the edge of the hem. The free-flowing skirt fell properly at a point midway between her knees and ankles. Most importantly, the feel of cotton caressing her skin whenever she moved was divine.

Even though there were many aspects of the dress Amy liked, it was obvious—no matter what Missy had said to the contrary—that she couldn't go out garbed like this. With a sigh of disappointment, she began to change clothes. Then, inspiration struck. _A compromise._ She rushed over to a drawer, pulled it open and started rifling through its contents.

"Perfect!" she said, holding up a white shrug.

Back in front of the mirror, she slipped it on before nodding in satisfaction. Now, her shoulders, bra straps, and the sides of her breasts were appropriately covered, and she looked more like usual herself. It was the perfect compromise.

She smiled to herself as she donned hose as well as the white sandals Missy had thoughtfully included in the bag. They were a little big, but Amy didn't really mind. To complete the ensemble, she gathered her hair into a serviceable ponytail. It wasn't her customary hairstyle. However, after the Weather Channel confirmed the day's high was expected to be 110 degrees, Amy thought it might be cooler to have her hair up.

As she finished the last touches on her hair, her mind went to her boyfriend and last night. They'd enjoyed two full episodes of _Firefly—Holding hands the whole time!— _before exhaustion threatened to claim Amy. Sheldon, taking note of this, called a halt to the evening, reminded her of the time they needed to leave in the morning, and bid her goodnight. There was no further mention of their relationship or kohlinar, but Amy still felt they'd made progress.

Sheldon's signature knock broke through her morning reverie. With one last glance at the mirror, she grabbed her purse and hastened to the door, curious to see his reaction to the slight change in her appearance. She doubted it would be anything near to what Missy had assumed. Yet, Amy still hoped Sheldon might find the new outfit pleasing.

"Good morning, Sheldon," she said, stepping out into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind her.

"Good morning, Amy. We're right on time and—Good Lord, what are you wearing?"

She gave a proud little pirouette. "Do you like it? Your sister loaned it to me."

Sheldon sputtered as he looked at her. His eyes darted away and then back. "Amy, I can see your-your-your …"

"My what?"

"Your …" He swallowed visibly. "Your breasts."

Amy glanced down, congratulating herself on the decision to wear her new underwire bra. All those trips to Victoria's Secret with Penny were finally starting to pay off. "Yes, I have breasts, Sheldon. My gynecologist said they're aesthetically pleasing and not undersized. I'm glad to see you agree. I'm also thrilled that you finally noticed they were there. I was beginning to think you didn't understand what the phrase 'second base' meant."

"Amy." Sheldon closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "You simply cannot go out dressed that way."

"Why? I am more than adequately covered with cloth. If you're concerned about possible sunburn, I assure you I've already coated myself with copious amounts of sunscreen—SPF 50. I also brought extra in my purse to reapply in a few hours." She beamed up at him. "How kind of you to be so worried about my well-being. It's good to see that our talk last night really meant something to you."

Sheldon opened his mouth as if to argue, but stopped himself when something else seemed to occur to him. Finally, he smiled, looked down at her, and gave a nod. "Of course. You're my girlfriend. Proper skin care is something we should all practice. Did you know that over the past three decades, more people have had skin cancer than any other cancer combined?"

Amy frowned. _Why on earth is Sheldon giving me his koala face?_ "Sheldon, is everything all right?"

"Yes." He checked his watch. "We should go now if we're going to make it to breakfast on time."

Still confused, Amy followed him to the elevators. They rode down together. Sheldon spoke in his typical manner, but couldn't seem to look in her direction without blushing. It was unsettling. Amy considered what Missy had told her about men's reactions the day before. Yet, it made no sense in terms of Sheldon's behavior. Besides his brief comment on her breasts, he didn't act in any way amorous towards her. In fact, he seemed insistent on maintaining more of a physical distance than usual.

_Odd._ She shook her head and decided she had bigger concerns to deal with today rather than this. After all, there were 32 more cousins and copious other relatives to meet before the afternoon was completed—something she was growing more nervous about as the time went on.

She and Sheldon took their seats at the little diner across the street. He ordered cereal while she chose scrambled eggs, sausage, and dry toast.

"I'm glad to see your appetite has returned, Amy," he said, continuing to read the menu even though the waitress had just taken their orders.

"Thank you. Did you get to watch _Dr. Who_ this morning? I noticed it was on the itinerary."

"Yes. I will admit that it was frustrating not to be able to enjoy my usual bowl of cereal while I watched, but I made do. I'm adaptable like that, you understand."

She nodded, waiting on him to put the menu down. Even though he'd had more than enough time to memorize every available entrée twice over, his eyes remained glued to the page while his fingers fidgeting nervously along the edges. If he was going to act like this while they were around his relatives, it was—_Of course. That must be it!_

"Sheldon, are you nervous about activating the PSA clause while we're around your cousins? We don't have to if you're going to be this uncomfortable."

"What?" He looked into her eyes for the first time. "No! It's imperative we continue on with our plan." His eyes flicked down to her chest briefly. "Now more than ever." Then, with another blush, he engrossed himself in the menu once more.

Amy considered all of this as the waitress brought their drinks. When Sheldon flashed another, covert glimpse at her chest, everything finally made sense. She felt like a fool. _How did I not see this before? It's so obvious. _She wanted to slap herself for being such a dunce. After all, all the signs had been right there in front of her. Even a child would have been able to deduce what was going on.

That saucy minx Victoria's Secret had struck again. One underwire bra had turned her already generous hill of a bosom into a veritable Mt. Fuji of womanly endowments. How could Sheldon not help be affected now that he'd finally noticed them? While Amy was pleased to see that Sheldon found her breasts attractive and—hopefully—arousing, she didn't want to spend the rest of the day with him acting so strangely. She considered a quick trip to the bathroom to remove the offending garment, but dismissed the idea. Going braless was something only hippies and floozies did. Besides, her mother would kill her if she found out.

Amy decided distracting Sheldon was a better option. If she could get him to stop focusing on her chest, they'd be fine. _I can't believe I'm actually at a point where I don't want him to notice me sexually. Never believed that would happen_, she thought.

The waitress brought their food. Sheldon propped the menu in front of him, creating a visible barrier between his cereal bowl and her. Amy sighed. This couldn't be allowed to continue.

"Sheldon, would you like to play a game while we eat?" Amy offered as she peppered her eggs.

He peeked around the menu wall. "What do you suggest? I didn't bring the cards for Counterfactuals."

"I suggest a game testing our memorization skills. We can call it Biologicals."

His eyes lit up. "Memorization? With my eidetic memory, I'll have an uncommon advantage over you."

"Yes, but the subject of the game will cover the area of biology—where I have the distinct advantage."

He considered this briefly before putting away the menu. "That is acceptable. Proceed."

"I'll choose a letter from the alphabet at random as well as a system of the body—like skeletal, muscular, digestive, etc. Then, before 60 seconds elapses, you'll be required to name every component within that system starting with the chosen letter. A point is granted for each correct answer given. Once the minute is up, your turn is over and mine begins. The first person to 500 points wins."

Sheldon stared in amazement at her for the longest time, his face finally breaking into a dazzling grin. "You have an uncommon flair for coming up with the best games, Amy. If you weren't so devoted to neurobiology, I'd encourage you to give Milton Bradley a run for their money."

She giggled, pleased by the compliment and that her little plan had worked. "Thank you, Sheldon. Shall we proceed?"

"Absolutely. Pick a letter."

— —

Like Ricky, George Cooper Jr. was an ass.

Ricky, of course, could be excused for his behavior because he was wild primate with a three-pack-a-day smoking habit. George Jr., a fully-grown human male reared in the same family that had produced Sheldon and Missy, could not.

Of course, Amy hadn't known Sheldon's older brother was an ass at first. When he'd initially ambled up to her and Mary while they were setting out all the food for the reunion, she'd been delighted at the prospect of making the acquaintance of the last of her boyfriend's immediate family.

"It's nice to meet you, George." Amy held out a hand for him to shake.

He stared at the offered hand a moment before promptly turning to his mother. "Did you bring it like I asked?"

Mary popped her eldest son on the back of the head. "Act like you had some raising, for goodness sake. This is your brother's girlfriend. Make her feel welcome."

George looked Amy over like a piece of meat in a butcher shop before dipping a congenial nod in her direction. His scruffy, unshaven jaw instantly widened into a smile that didn't make it all the way up to his brown eyes. Amy grew uneasy at the barely-restrained anger simmering beneath the surface of his expression. He was like an oxidizing gas just waiting to react with combustible material.

"Hi there," he said. "Where's my brother, the robot? He dump you to go play with his lasers?"

"No, he's with Meemaw helping to bring more tables for the food," Amy replied, taking in the blood-shot eyes, the slight tremor in his hands, and the ripped t-shirt and dirty jeans he was wearing. She looked to Mary to see if the woman was aware of her son's underlying issue.

"Mom, did you bring it?" he asked again, running an agitated hand through the shaggy brown hair that fell just below his collar.

"Yes," his mother said, reaching into her purse and handing him a white, sealed envelope. "Here you go. Now, you're staying for the reunion, right?"

"I gotta run a quick errand, but I'll come back. I'll hang out for a little while, but I'm supposed to meet up with the guys later."

Mary looked at him long and hard. "Will you be seeing Randy with the 'guys'?"

George rolled his eyes. "Don't start. I gotta go. I'll be back soon and you can take my head off then. Bye."

"Make sure you get cleaned up before your meemaw sees you!" Mary added.

The older woman wrapped an arm around Amy's waist as they watched him walk away. "My children are blessings to me from God, Amy. Some a little less than others, but all still a blessing."

As there was nothing she could add to the conversation without making Mary uncomfortable, Amy refrained from commenting and went back to work laying out food. Meemaw returned and like the pied piper, various youths followed after her carrying tables and chairs. Sheldon, of course, was among them. Once everything was placed according to Meemaw's satisfaction, Sheldon and Amy were free to go about exploring their environment. Amy needed no further incentive to do just that.

The reunion took place in a space roughly the size of a football field. It was a barren expanse of land populated with tents pitched all around and clusters of blue porta potties, giving it the appearance of a strange, little village of sorts. An immense, covered metal shelter in the very middle of everything housed the food and iced beverages in a buffet style while the tents afforded respites for people to congregate, talk, and play cards or board games out of the sun. Here and there, various outdoor lawn games were available for those who felt less lethargic. Amy could see set ups for horse shoes, volley ball, croquet, badminton, and tetherball. Off in the distance, kids played on a large, brightly-painted playground.

From inside one of the tents, someone blasted country music while, at another, classic rock prevailed. People milled about here and there, laughing, talking, smoking, and otherwise having the time of their lives.

Amid all the noise, animation, people, and chaos, Sheldon took Amy's hand.

She glanced over at him. While she'd been viewing the activity before her with the inquisitive, excited air of someone attending a fair, he looked like he was preparing to run a gauntlet.

"Sheldon, are you all right?"

He nodded.

There was no one currently at the horse shoe area and, since a game had enlivened his spirits at breakfast, Amy decided to try that ploy again. "I propose a game of horse shoes."

"Proposal denied."

"Why?"

"I've accepted that I lack the manual dexterity to fling heavy, u-shaped objects at a metal pole stuck in the ground. Besides, my cousins rejoice in triumph whenever I miss."

"Everyone misses sometimes."

"I don't just miss. One time, I gave my Aunt Gladys a concussion."

Amy winced at the mental image. Still, she was here to help. Turning to face him, she grasped his other hand. "Sheldon, logically, you should excel at this activity."

"It's sports. I fail at all sports. I always have. In kindergarten, I broke my wrist trying to play Duck-Duck-Goose."

"That's just it. Horseshoes is not a sport; it's basic physics. Force equals mass times acceleration. Using this principle, you should be able to easily dominate this game."

He considered this a moment before shaking his head. "Your idea has merit. However, you haven't factored in an important variable."

"Like what?"

"Like the second I get over there, my cousins will begin their tedious mocking. I won't be able to concentrate and then someone will get hurt. It's happened year after year."

She smiled. "Yes, but this year, you have a girlfriend with you." She squeezed his hands.

He looked at the horse shoes and shook his head more vehemently. "No."

"Don't let fear rule you, Sheldon. This is just like your fear of birds and the mailman. Remember how you overcame those? Besides, I've never played horseshoes before. Odds are I'll prove far worse at the game than you."

"That is not possible."

She shrugged. "Then, I guess we can be equally terrible. The point is that we'll be together. What do you say? Are you going to let a bunch of redneck troglodytes keep you from showing your girlfriend a good time?"

A small smile finally broke through. "OK. I'll try … for you. But if I hit someone—"

She laughed. "Then, we'll play Old Maid instead."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_"There wouldn't have been any ass-kickings if that stupid death-ray would've worked."__  
**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 1)**  
__"The Luminous Fish Effect"_

Sheldon was a sexy horseshoe god.

Left free to concentrate and examine every angle at his leisure, he was able to pinpoint the exact force needed to ring the metal stake every time. Observing his brain perform with such superior precision was exhilarating. Amy told him so.

It also made the ovaries quake in her uterus—but she kept that to herself.

While Sheldon exhibited extraordinary talent and skill at the game, Amy wasn't as fortunate. Her mind could easily calculate the equations, but her hands refused to cooperate in bringing those calculations to life. Her best toss was still more than six inches from its intended mark. Sheldon was easily victorious six games in a row. But, as she'd never been one to give up, she picked up her horseshoes, intent on trying again.

"You've got to factor in height as well as force," Sheldon advised.

"I am doing that, Sheldon."

"Are you holding the shoe the way I told you?"

"Yes." She flung the first shoe with all her might. It thumped against the soft dirt and did a series of cartwheels before coming to rest four inches in front of the stake. "Oh, crap."

He sighed. "You're still not holding it correctly. Let me show you."

Before she could guess his intention, Sheldon gawkily edged up behind her. She stiffened at the sudden contact, but didn't protest.

"Is it OK that I'm touching you?" Sheldon's breath blew against her neck as he spoke. "I don't know a better way to demonstrate the correct gripping style."

She wanted to swoon from the euphoria of being this close to him, but was pretty sure he'd freak if he knew that. So, instead, she stammered, "Y-y-yes, of course. PSA clause, remember?"

"Are you sure? Your voice is shaky. It sounds exactly like when you were sick and I had to apply Vaporub to your chest."

"I'm fine. Bend my trembling figure to your wicked will."

"What? What on earth are you talking about?"

Amy reigned herself in. She didn't want to scare him off. "Nevermind. Just show me what you wanted to show me."

"All right," Sheldon said. "A basic knowledge of physics is indeed important in this game. However, the true key to assuring triumph every time is in how you hold the shoe. First, cradle it like this." Sheldon cupped the back of her hand. "Relax your grip." His free hand lightly clasped her other shoulder to keep her in place. "The throw shouldn't be a straight, forward lunge. It's more of a swooping arc."

"I did arc it."

"Not like that. Like this," he said, pressing fully against her until they were almost one person. "Now, I know this might be difficult. But, you'll need to relax against me. Just pretend we're dancing and follow my lead." Sheldon's voice was gentle, but firm. He was all business. She, meanwhile, was putty. "That's right. Move when I move." Their bodies rocked fluidly as one, their linked hands swinging back and forth in a wide semicircle. "Now, focus on your target, increase the height by eight degrees from your last throw, and take a step forward before you release."

They rocked on this way until her head was swimming. Amy knew she could stay like this forever. Never had she felt this content, this safe, this alive in her life. "Ready?" he murmured, his mouth casually vibrating against her ear.

She shivered, and tried to remember the game they were playing. _What is it again? Oh, yes. Horseshoes._ "I'm ready," she said, using the last of her willpower to stare down the stake.

"Release!"

The shoe flew from their joint grasp, curling gracefully through the air. There was a dull _tink_ of metal clunking against metal. Amy looked over. The horseshoe was now perfectly encircling the metal post. _Yes!_ She pivoted in Sheldon's embrace and threw her arms around his neck.

"I did it!" She crowed.

He hugged her back, chuckling in her ear. "_We_ did it, Amy. Don't forget I helped."

She pulled back and giggled. "How could I? I couldn't have done it without you."

Their eyes met. All signs of humor faded to a pregnant silence. As he looked down at her, his blue eyes glowed with happiness and something stronger—more urgent—than she'd ever seen before. She accepted it all and gave it back tenfold, content to stay in his arms forever. Amy didn't care what any of her friends ever said about Sheldon Cooper not being the perfect boyfriend. They had never seen him like this. Like this, no woman could have resisted him.

Drawn by a want and need she barely understood, she edged closer to him. Likewise, Sheldon's head dipped towards her as his gaze moved to her lips. His grip on her waist tightened almost painfully, but she didn't care. Her hands had unconsciously slid up his arms to clutch at his shoulders. He tugged her to him. Her head automatically tilted back. They were body to body, chest to chest, soul to soul and—

"Oh my God. Shelly's got a girlfriend? That's the first sign of the apocalypse isn't it, Hank?"

_No! Not again._ Her head fell forward to rest on Sheldon's chest as Amy tried to get her breathing and hormones under control.

"What do you want, Beau?" Sheldon said, cradling Amy to him.

"I came over to see how your horseshoe game was going this year. I got to give you this much, you're a stubborn little cuss. Why don't you just give up and accept that even a Know-It-All like you can't be good at everything?"

Amy's head jerked up. She broke away from Sheldon, whirling like an enraged tornado to face down the moron who dared to interrupt the most romantic moment of her life. Whoever he was, he'd be lucky to escape without having a horseshoe permanently fused to his genitals. Penny had taught her a great many things during their girls' nights at the bars. Dispatching dullards with more gumption than sense had been only the first lesson.

There were five of them in all crowded around, including Hank. Four were attired in the ripped jeans and questionably-clean t-shirts—the apparent uniform of rednecks around here. Two even wore cowboy hats. The fifth was obviously the leader and looked more like he belonged on a yacht in Martha's Vineyard than a family reunion in Galveston, Texas. He was flawlessly coiffed from his short, blond hair to his button-down shirt, khaki shorts and loafers.

"Let me guess," she said, silently thanking Sheldon for making her memorize the Cooper family tree. "Beauregard Cooper-Reynolds?"

"You know my name?" Beau asked. "I'm impressed."

"I told you she was some kind of psychic," Hank grumbled from behind him.

"And I told you I was a neurobiologist," Amy corrected.

Hank shrugged. "Same thing in my book."

Sheldon snaked an arm around her waist to pull her back against him. She was surprised at first—until she remembered the PSA clause and their audience. She relaxed into him, deciding it was best to enjoy the physical contact while she could.

Sheldon waved them off. "Leave us alone. Have your fun elsewhere."

"Not until we get to know your girlfriend. She's quite a spitfire, isn't she?" Beau asked.

"She's none of your business," Sheldon hissed. "Now go before I make you leave."

Beau's hands flew up in mock surrender. "Slow down there, sparky. I'm not here to fight. It's a reunion. We're family. I just came over to visit. Besides, you think I'm going to run the risk of pissing off Meemaw by beating up her number one grandson? No way. She promised to make her corn muffins this year, and I've been dreaming about them for months. I just wanted to meet your little lady."

"I'm Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler. You've met me. Now, leave us alone," Amy said.

"You're a doctor? Well, well. Are you smart like Shelly too? I bet you are." Beau laughed. "That, at least, explains why you're with him."

All five men guffawed as if that was the funniest joke they'd ever heard. Amy could feel Sheldon vibrating with anger next to her. _No wonder he didn't want me to come here. With family like this, who needs enemies?_ She knew if she didn't intervene, things were going to get ugly.

Taking a page from Mary Cooper's book, Amy stared Beau down until every drop of humor had evaporated from his face. "For your edification, I'm with Sheldon because he has the most brilliant mind I've ever seen. He's also the sweetest, noblest gentleman I know. Any woman would be fortunate indeed to claim him as her boyfriend."

Hank ambled forward. "Yeah, if they wanted a robot. I bet he hasn't even laid hands on you, has he? He's always too afraid of catching something. Tell me, Shelly, do you even know what to do with a woman?"

"What Amy and I do behind closed doors is no one's business but ours!" Sheldon declared, shoving her behind him for protection.

Amy refused to hide. Instead, she grinned like the famed Cheshire Cat and slowly shook her head at each one of the Cooper cousins. "You … gentlemen … are obviously not thinking this through."

"What are you talking about?" Beau asked.

She had everyone's full attention. Even Sheldon seemed clueless as to where she was going with this. _Well_, Amy thought, _I'm already out on the limb. May as well go all out._ She took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

"Dr. Sheldon Lee Cooper is a theoretical physicist with an IQ of 187. His occupational focus is in discovering the building blocks of the cosmos so that humankind can have a better understanding of how it works."

Hank shrugged again. "So?"

"So, that takes a person with infinite patience, fortitude, and a passion to leave no area uncharted."

"So?" This came from Beau.

Amy sighed impatiently. "So, imagine what a man like that can do when exploring the many facets of the female form. All those heated hills and enigmatic valleys lay bare before him. He's in no rush. No this man's got all the time in the world to discover—through touch, sight, and taste—all the ways he can bring exquisite carnal ecstasy to his woman. Plus, Sheldon has an eidetic memory, which means he only needs to experience something once in order to remember it forever. That's right. One time and he knows every erogenous zone to caress, lick, and worship to transform any woman into his willing sexual slave. Every. Single. Time. Now, merge all those traits together in a body just built for debauchery and Sheldon would need to—pardon my slang—'beat the women off with a stick'. That's right. One look from him and women go weak at the knees."

There was a full moment of silence as everyone absorbed what she said. Most of them looked like they'd been hit in the face with mallet—Sheldon included. It was only Hank who seemed less than impressed.

"Yeah," he asked, "but what about you? Has Shelly ever made your 'knees go weak'?"

"On more occasions than I can accurately count," Amy avowed. "And, as you saw when you walked up, he obviously has no problem having me touch him or putting his hands all over me." To prove her point, she snuggled up against Sheldon. Taking the hint, he held her. She stared up at her beloved like he was a sex god and she was one of his many worshipers. "Now, if we're done discussing my boyfriend's legendary lovemaking skills, my little Christopher Columbus and I were about to chart some new territory."

The Cooper cousins were gaping at Sheldon as if they'd just found out he was some kind of a super hero. Sheldon smirked right back at them as if to say. _Oh, yeah. That's right, boys. I am. What do you have to say now? _

Amy bit back a laugh. _Males, no matter the species, are all alike._

"Well," Beau said, clearing his throat self-consciously. "It was … um … nice to meet you, Amy. It's good to see that Sheldon makes you so … happy. You know me and Hank, but you should still get to meet the rest of the boys. This is Pete, Ted and Little Billy." He pointed them out one by one as he named them off. "My wife Reagan's around here somewhere with our kids. I'll have to introduce you to her later."

"I'd like that," Amy said. "Nice to meet you all."

"Hey, Sheldon," the one named Pete asked, "you think you and I might be able to have a private chat about a few things before you go back to California? I've got some … sciency … issues you might be able to help me with."

Sheldon played it cool. "I'll think about it."

Amy wondered if her boyfriend truly understood the kind of "science" Pete wanted to talk about. She decided to warn him later.

With a nod goodbye, Beau turned to lead the redneck group away. However, Hank wasn't finished yet.

"Wait. What about horseshoes? I don't care how great she says he is in the bedroom. The boy sucks at horseshoes."

Beau shook his head. "Let it go, Hank. So Sheldon accidentally knocked your mama upside the head a few years ago. It wasn't on purpose."

"This ain't about Mama. This is about Mr. High-and-Mighty thinking he's the shit when he really ain't."

"Gentlemen," Amy said before an argument could start. "I propose a bet to put this dispute to bed once and for all."

"What kind of bet?" Beau asked.

"Which of you is the best horseshoe player?"

They all pointed at Hank, who swaggered forward. "That'd be me, sweetness."

"Don't call her that again."

Sheldon's tone brooked no disagreement. Amy patted him soothingly as she kept her attention on his stubborn cousin. "Hank, do you think you could beat Sheldon if you two played a game?"

Hank sneered. "Hell, yeah."

"Amy, what are you doing?" Sheldon demanded.

She kept right on patting. "Trust me," she said. "Now, Hank, you want to—what's the expression?—'put your money where your mouth is'?"

"Sure. How much?"

"If you win, we give you a hundred dollars. If Sheldon wins, you have to cease your immature taunting and snide remarks and let the unfortunate accident with your mother go."

Hank snorted. "Smelly Shelly deserves what he gets. My problem with him ain't just with what he done to Mama. Growing up with him was a real pain in the ass. He thought he knew everything."

"I did know everything," Sheldon countered. "Name one time I was wrong!"

Amy's soothing pats transformed into soothing massage. "Sheldon, please. Hank is thinking over our deal. Don't interrupt him."

He opened his mouth to argue, but then seemed to become aware of what she was doing. Every muscle he had stiffened beneath her hand, but she didn't stop. In fact, she grew bolder. Her fingers went from making lazy circles over and over on his flat stomach to moving up towards his pectoral region. Truth be told, Amy never wanted the cousins to leave. After all, the longer they stayed, the longer she could touch Sheldon without having him pull away. But, as she was about to explore the enchanting peak of his nipple, Sheldon slapped a hand on top of hers and held it immobile against his chest.

He glowered disapprovingly down at her. Amy smiled back as innocently as possible—or at least tried to. Sheldon's continued frown told her she wasn't fooling him for a second.

"You got a deal, Amy," Hank said. "Get your money ready 'cause I'm about to give Shelly an ass whoopin' bigger than the one I gave him the time he told me that Pluto wasn't a planet no more."

"Pluto isn't a planet anymore," Amy said. "It's a dwarf planet."

"That's still a planet," Hank argued.

"No it isn't," Amy countered.

Sheldon rolled his eyes. "I've already had this argument with him, Amy. Save yourself the hassle. He refuses to listen to reason."

Beau held up a hand. "Let's focus here, guys. The bet is a hundred dollars versus Hank not getting to rib on Sheldon anymore, right?"

"Correct." Amy nodded. "But I have two conditions."

Hank threw up his hands. "Here we go. Women always got to have conditions."

"One, everyone here must agree to abide by the second condition without dissent."

"What's the second condition?" Pete said.

"What's 'dissent'?" Little Billy said.

"'Dissent' means you must all agree unanimously. As for the second condition, I can't tell you that until you agree to the first one," Amy said.

Little Billy scratched an apparent itch in his groin region. "Is she a lawyer? I thought she was some kind of psychic."

Pete waved him off. "What I want to know is what's in it for me if I agree? Whether or not Hank wins a hundred bucks ain't no skin off my nose."

"You're right, Pete," Amy said. "Therefore, I'll sweeten the pot, as it were. If you agree to both of my conditions and keep your word throughout the whole game, I will pay each one of you fifty dollars."

"But Amy—" Sheldon protested.

Her free hand slipped from his back down to firmly clasp his gluteus maximus. Sheldon gave a strangled squeak and lurched like he'd been struck by lightning. Amy knew she'd pay for her audacious behavior later, but, right now, she didn't care. Not only had she desperately needed him not to interfere, but she'd always wanted to grab his butt. The experience was just as delightful as she'd always imagined.

The Cooper cousins quickly agreed to her proposal and the first condition. So, she moved on to explaining the second condition. "While each participant is taking their turn, no one else is allowed to say or do anything to distract them. This includes, but is not limited to, taunting, teasing, trash talking, pulling faces, mimicry, bullying or other various forms of mockery."

"C'mon! That's the best part," Little Billy said.

"Yeah," Pete added. "You can't be serious. This is Sheldon we're talking about."

Amy looked them over. "Do you all agree or not? Otherwise, Sheldon and I will just walk away and you'll have to get your entertainment elsewhere."

In the end, the inducement of money and amusement proved too much for them to resist. She looked to Sheldon to see how he was holding up. The second his cousins were otherwise occupied, he rigidly removed himself from her groping hands. She didn't need his glare to know he was outraged and seriously pissed off. She opened her mouth to diffuse his temper, but he stopped her. "Not another word." He leaned closer and whispered, "You're ripe for another spanking, young lady."

Unrepentant, she smirked as he stomped off to pick up his horseshoes. "Here's hoping so."

**A/N: Oh yeah. I went there. (Author laughs maniacally as she goes off to write the next chapter.) **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_"Mrs. Cooper? Hey, it's Penny. I think I broke your son."  
__**Penny (TBBT Season 4)**__  
"The Thespian Catalyst"_

And that, of course, was when the feces really hit the fan.

Before the first horseshoe was even thrown, the game was over. Not because one of the opponents backed down or the threat of inclement weather. No, everything was permanently stalled by the untimely arrival of one William Ezra Cooper.

Also known as Sheldon's paternal grandfather.

The wheelchair-bound man was bald under his brown cowboy hat and had a face so obscured by scars, wrinkles and heavy gray whiskers that it was easy to believe he'd been mauled by a bear in his youth. With his age and obvious infirmity, he should have seemed vulnerable and feeble. But, his unwavering, silver stare and loud, booming voice more than tipped the intimidation scales in his favor. In fact, the second Mr. Cooper spoke to his grandsons, every one of them—including Sheldon—began an intense study of the ground.

Amy found the entire scene fascinating. It was like she was getting to observe all the monkeys from the lab while in their natural habitat and able to communicate in English. She only wished her laptop were nearby so she could take notes.

"I said 'What are y'all doing?'" the old man demanded again. "Well? Is anyone gonna answer me?"

"Yes, sir," the boys chorused and then immediately went silent.

The silver stare zeroed in on Amy like a spotlight. "And who might you be, girly? 'Cause sure as shootin' you ain't a Cooper. You here with Hank? You're not his usual type."

Amy glanced to her boyfriend for guidance on how best to proceed. But, as he wouldn't even look up, it became apparent she was on her own. She turned back to the senior citizen across from her. If he was going to act like a wild animal, she was going to certainly treat him like one.

"I'm Sheldon's girlfriend, Dr. Amy Fowler."

The man gave a wheezy laugh that reminded her of Sheldon's. "You're shitting me, right? That simpleton wouldn't look twice at a woman, much less bring one to the reunion. Who you really with? Little Billy?" He glared over at Billy. "I thought you was married, boy. What'd you do to screw it up now?"

"I am married, Granddaddy." Little Billy pointed across the way to the food area. "Sarah-Jane's over yonder with the rest of the women."

"And you, Hank? She belong to you?"

Hank didn't even look up. He just shook his head vigorously back and forth.

"I assure you, Mr. Cooper, I am indeed dating Sheldon," Amy said, stepping directly into the man's path so he was forced to focus his menacing glower on her. "The idea that I must belong to someone in order to be here is insulting. As I understand you are using it as a euphemism for a pair bond instead of as indicating that my status should be equal to that of chattel, however, I will not take offense."

The old man blinked as though startled she would speak to him that way. Amy wondered if anyone ever had. _Probably not._

"You sassin' me, girl?"

Amy cocked her head to the side, recognizing this maneuver. He was trying to cower her by exerting the influence and respect given to him because of his age. It was the dominant monkey's way of sizing up any newcomers so they knew who was in charge.

"No, I was merely stating a fact. I believe you were the one who was 'sassing' me."

The words were met with a few gasps from the boys. Amy wondered if she'd gone too far. Sure, this man had been rude to her, but it would be foolish indeed to thwart his position in this family. Sheldon would carry the consequences for that transgression and, if the tics working across her boyfriend's face were any indication, he wasn't going to be able to take much more as it was.

Mr. Cooper's expression gave nothing away. He'd probably been an excellent poker player in his youth. He simply stared at Amy for the longest time before finally turning his attention elsewhere. "Sheldon, come here."

A low whimper sounded, but no one moved.

"Get over here, boy," Mr. Cooper barked, slamming his hand on the armrest of his chair for emphasis.

Sheldon's body jerked forward, as if drawn forth by the yank of a rope around his waist. But, he didn't come to stop in front of Mr. Cooper as Amy had expected. Instead, he edged past the man and stood at his girlfriend's side. Then, before anyone could say anything, Sheldon's chin went up, defiant. Blue eyes locked with silver.

This single, brave gesture made Amy fall in love with him all over again.

Mr. Cooper, however, wasn't as impressed by his grandson's boldness. "She belong to you?" the old man challenged, a grin on his face as though the punch line of a joke was imminent.

Amy thought she heard another soft whimper rumble from Sheldon's throat, but she couldn't be sure. Before she could process that, though, he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her to him like he was saving a possession from being thrown into the fire.

Suddenly, belonging to someone didn't seem so bad.

"S-she's mine," he said. His voice wavered, but not the eye contact.

A thick, white eyebrow arched upward. "You gonna let her talk to your granddaddy like that?"

Sheldon's back straightened slightly. "Yes."

Mr. Cooper threw back his head and cackled like a fairy tale witch. No one knew how to react at first: Amy because she wasn't sure if he was laughing or having some kind of seizure and the others because apparently they had never seen this kind of behavior out of their grandfather. Then, just as quickly as the cackling began, it ceased. Amy felt the stare fall on her again and readied herself for another attack. Sheldon had obviously deduced the same inevitability because he stepped in front of her to obscure his grandfather's view.

"Amy Fowler," the man boomed.

She jumped, unable to help herself. But, as Sheldon went to push her further behind him, she popped a head around. "Yes, Mr. Cooper?"

"You responsible for this backbone my grandson has suddenly got?"

Amy wasn't sure how to answer that. "Maybe."

"I think you are." He turned to gaze at his other grandsons, who wore identical expressions of shock and confusion. However, the second they noticed him looking at them, their faces turned to the ground. "You boys could stand to learn a thing or two from Sheldon. A real man don't allow another to trample his woman—not even his granddaddy." And, with that, he pushed the electric switch on his chair and wheeled over to Amy and Sheldon. "As for you, girly …"

"My name is Amy. It is impolite and condescending to refer to me as 'girly'." Amy informed him, keeping his gaze like she knew he liked.

Mr. Cooper laughed again. "Fine, _Amy_. You gonna marry Sheldon?"

"He hasn't asked." She blushed.

He leaned in. "I could _make_ him ask you."

Sheldon yelped. "You most certainly could not," he argued. "If I should ever decide to change the paradigm of Amy's and my relationship in that vein, it would be because—"

"That's enough out of you," Mr. Cooper clipped.

Sheldon immediately went mute, his newborn backbone crumbling under the pressure of over thirty years of familial training.

"What'd you say, Amy? The next Cooper generation could stand to be mixed with blood like yours. Just do me a favor and don't name your kid after me." He shot Little Billy a disdainful frown. "There's too many of those already."

"Five too many to be exact," Sheldon added before a glare from his grandfather silenced him once more.

"Well?" Mr. Cooper prodded, the grin growing on his face telling her he wanted nothing more than for her to agree.

Amy was tempted. _Who wouldn't be?_ But, she and Sheldon were nowhere near ready for marriage. After all, she had a five-year plan, and he hadn't even kissed her yet. Getting a proposal before a kiss was a prime example of putting the proverbial cart before the horse if she'd ever seen one. Besides, force was not the way she wanted to marry Sheldon. When it happened—and it would—it would be the end of an expedition of discovery, happiness, and love. Every step of that journey was important and required for them to enjoy a successful marriage and she planned to take each one of those strides with Sheldon willingly at her side.

Amy looked up at her beloved and saw the raw fear in his eyes. He clearly wasn't confident of what she would say. Or, perhaps, he was worried he might actually be forced to marry her. _Does he really think so little of me?_ That knowledge hurt more than it should have considering what she'd just told herself. _Baby steps_, she mentally chanted. _Build trust, then love, then sex, then marriage._

Relationships, like everything else, had a protocol to them.

She took a deep, fortifying breath and turned to Mr. Cooper. "When Sheldon proposes to me, it will be of his own free will."

"I see," he said. His eyes darted to Sheldon. "Make sure you don't take too long on that, boy. I ain't gonna wait forever." The old man wiped a gnarled hand over his whiskers. "Amy, you and Sheldon are gonna eat lunch with me today. Make sure you come find me when the time gets here."

And, with a wink, he rolled off. It took a few minutes for them to recover. Everyone seemed afraid to even breathe. Then, finally, the cousins started laughing to themselves.

"The Titan of Terror was in rare form today," Beau announced. "Amy, I can't believe you said all that to him. And, Sheldon … wow. You are the man."

"Yeah," Hank added. "That was amazing. You stood up to the old battle axe and lived to tell the tale. I tried to do that one time and ended up peeing myself."

Little Billy chuckled. "I remember that. He told you he couldn't believe one of his own kin couldn't hold his liquid."

"What about the first time he met Sarah-Jane and made you cry?" Hank argued. "Not so funny now, is it?"

Amy ignored them as they devolved into a ridiculous spat. Her attention remained on Sheldon, who appeared shell-shocked and was paler than she'd ever seen him.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

He took her by the hand and jerked her away from his cousins. Amy had no choice but to follow him as they traversed tents, people, and finally beyond the reach of even the porta potties. Finally, he stopped and let go of her, seemingly needing to put distance between them.

Sheldon paced back and forth in front of her, wrapping his arms around his head as if there was a loud noise he was trying to protect his ears from. He mumbled to himself as the frequency of the pacing increased. Amy wasn't sure what was happening here, but whatever it was wasn't good.

"Sheldon, calm down and tell me what is going on. You're current behavior is scaring me."

He turned on her like a rabid dog. "Why did you do that? This is why I didn't want you to come. Don't you realize what this means?" He resumed pacing.

"What are you talking about?" She reached out to touch him, but he pulled away as if she were trying to burn him with a hot iron. Her hands fell uselessly to her sides. "What did I do?"

"You started—You made him—He's going to think—And then, next time, he's going to expect and I can't—Then, he's going to tell people that—I don't need this kind of—Don't you understand?"

She shook her head. "You're babbling. I don't understand any of this. Your grandfather asked me questions. Was I not supposed to answer? You never said I shouldn't talk to him."

"Because I usually make of point of not being in his presence," Sheldon hissed. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood away from her. "You don't comprehend the enormity of what you've done. Granddaddy doesn't let these kinds of things go. I never could have imagined he was going to take to you like that. Why would he? You're like me and he hates me. Always has."

"He's your grandfather, Sheldon. He doesn't hate you."

His jaw dropped open. "You must be joking. He hates everyone. Didn't you see? Oh, why was I so stupid? This isn't me. Why did I have to claim you like some kind of cave man? You were doing fine on your own. You didn't need my protection. He wouldn't have hurt you. I am so stupid. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He punctuated each word by hitting himself in the head.

Amy'd had enough. She marched over to her boyfriend and grabbed his hands around the wrist to keep him from hurting himself. She pinned them against his sides and looked up into his face. "What happened back there that I am missing?"

"It's so obvious even a child could see."

He tried to throw her off, but Amy kept her hold firm. "See what, Sheldon? Just tell me."

"It's too late. Everything I've done, everything I've dreamed of. Gone. Just gone. Who knew my downfall was going to come at the hands of some hotsie-totsie from Glendale? I should have let them leave that dirty sock in my apartment. Anything is better than this."

His rambling was meaningless to her beyond the fact that he was wishing they'd never met. Tears bit the back of her eyes and she let them run unbidden down her cheeks as she kept her hold on him.

"Tell me," she said, knowing whatever this was would break her heart in a way that could never be mended. Sheldon struggled against her to free his hands, but she used every ounce of anger and sorrow she had to keep him against her. "Tell me, damn it. Just tell me."

Sheldon finally went limp beneath her grasp. His expression wasn't one of insanity or even anger anymore. It was morose acceptance of the inevitable. He was like a dead man on his way to an execution and, suddenly, Amy didn't want to hear what he had to say. She'd known Sheldon—had studied him—for almost three years. In some ways, she knew him better than she knew herself. And, the light that had died in his eyes told her exactly what was going on here. Amy didn't want to be a part of it. But, it was too late. The initial domino had already been pushed forward and the words were already falling out of his mouth.

"I'll have to marry you now."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_"What would you be if you were attached to another object by an inclined plane wrapped helically around an axis?"  
__**Leonard Hofstadter (TBBT Season 4)**__  
"The Desperation Emanation"_

"I'll have to marry you now."

"I'd rather wed a monkey."

Sheldon sighed. "While I appreciate your feeble attempt at humor to diffuse the tension and make me feel better, Amy, it isn't helping."

Amy released him and stepped back. Right now, she was so overcome with the urge to strike him that space was desperately needed. The fact that he'd missed the meaning behind her words only strengthened that urge.

"I know this might come as a surprise to you, Sheldon, but the world does not revolve around your feelings," she said, wiping the residual tears from her face. She refused to allow him to see her cry. "In case you missed it, having a boyfriend who believes marrying me is a punishment akin to death has not left me in the highest of spirits. Therefore, when the 'hotzy totzy from Glendale' says she would rather be forever legally joined to a monkey rather than you, you should recognize that she is in earnest and go straight to Hell!"

She marched past him, unsure of where she was going, but desperately needing to be anywhere he wasn't. Sheldon grabbed her elbow as she tried to pass and pulled her back around to face him.

"Go to Hell? Really, Amy?" He searched her face, obviously trying to discern her sudden flash of temper. "Do you still not see what is going on here? Our marriage wouldn't just be a punishment for me. It would also be one for you."

Amy's fury dimmed in the light of this latest statement. She snatched her hand from his grasp and crossed both arms over her chest. "Explain," she said.

"You are a leading neurobiologist. Your research, should you be allowed to complete it, is going to change the world. In a similar vein, I am on a stalwart path in my research that is going to lead directly to a Nobel Prize."

"How would a marriage between us affect either of those outcomes?"

He took a deep breath. "In addition to major changes in the areas of living situation, fudiciary liability, and legal status, a marriage between us would greatly hinder our ability to focus on our respective areas of expertise. The model of our relationship is such that it allows us to compartmentalize our lives to avoid this problem. For example, my societal obligations as your boyfriend are far less than they would be as your husband—"

"Are you talking about coitus? Is this entire problem about the fact that you do not wish to engage in sexual intercourse with me, Sheldon?" Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Amy felt the heat of anger rising along with the timber of her voice. She was practically screaming at him, but she didn't care. "If this is about something so juvenile and ridiculous, you will not need to worry about ever participating in such an occupation with me. At this point, I wouldn't let you touch me with—pardon my slang—a ten-foot pole."

Sheldon look startled. "What? No! I assure you, if I were to ever logically decide on my own to propose marriage to you, I would have long conquered my issues with intimacy and physical affection—at least where you are concerned. In fact, I was already developing strategies on how we might …" He broke off suddenly and colored.

"Yes?" she prodded.

He coughed awkwardly and looked away. "My point is that coitus is not the problem."

As much as she wanted him to continue his previous thought, she knew it was better to just get to the heart of whatever was troubling him. "Then what is?"

Sheldon studied his nails as he was still unable to meet her gaze. "For the most part, our lives allow us to move unfettered by principal commitments beyond those required to sustain our current living circumstances. Moreover, if I choose to work late completing complicated equations or writing a paper, I need not justify this choice to anyone. If you find the need to conduct one of your experiments overnight, you need not gain permission. It is only on our scheduled date nights or other pre-arranged times when we will socialize that one might need to take the other into consideration. However, as those nights are pre-arranged in advance, they do not present obstacles for our daily intellectual endeavors.

"With marriage, however, this is impossible. Every minute is obligated to one's spouse. One cannot think solely for themselves anymore, they must consider their spouse. Even infinitesimal, seemingly unimportant decisions cannot be made entirely on one's own anymore. They must be made with the acknowledgement and agreement of the spouse. I cannot abide that kind of restriction in my life, Amy. I have too many important things to do to allow for this complication. So do you."

Amy took all this in. The irony that Sheldon, a man who put restrictions and boundaries on everything, did not want to be hemmed in by marriage was not lost on her. Yet, at the same time, her anger was fading away as another, more important truth came to the forefront. Taking into account what she'd overheard of his conversation with Meemaw yesterday, it certainly made sense.

"So, the pledge of commitment is the problem here. Not me?"

"I am fully pledged to you, Amy," he said, taking her hand in his. "The relationship agreement stands as a level of commitment of which few can boast. It is in place to not only ensure my comfort and give us both an accurate valuation of the parameters and responsibilities of each party within the relationship, but it also grants you a security few girlfriends have. The relationship agreement, like the US Constitution, is a living, breathing document that can and is amended as the needs of the relationship change. Thus, you do not have to waste your mental acuity on feelings of insecurity and the like in this relationship. You do not need to fret as women often do to know 'where we are in the relationship'. You need only read the agreement. And, if that wasn't enough to show my level of commitment to you, I have you listed as my in-case-of-emergency contact. How much more can any woman need?"

Just as quickly as he took her hand, he dropped it to rake his own dejectedly through his hair. "But, beyond all that, you have your life and I have mine. The current paradigm of our relationship gives us the best of both worlds. We can enjoy each other's company and still have the freedom to work as we choose. Marriage will take this freedom away."

She nodded, feeling slightly better. He was wrong about the idea that marriage would ruin their scientific ambitions, but he was right about the agreement. At first, she had deemed it overly restrictive, but, on more than one occasion, it had proven to be a source of comfort. It was a physical representation of her bond with the man she loved and his commitment to her. But, as much as the last of her anger was receding, there were things he'd said that had stung too much to forgive without formal rebuke.

"And what about what you said before? The 'hotsie- totsie from Glendale' remark? Then there was the comment about you wishing you'd let Raj and Howard leave the soiled hosiery in your apartment? How am I supposed to deduce anything else from that other than you wish you'd never met me? How do you think that makes me feel?" Amy asked.

"Amy, if I were honest with you," Sheldon said, "there have been many times that I have wished we had not met. Not because I do not want you in my life or because I do not enjoy your company."

"Then why?"

"Because … I do."

"You do?"

He gave a miserable, little nod and sighed like the statement was too difficult to admit. "I don't just want you in my life. Your presence has become a requirement for my continued happiness. I do not just enjoy your company. I seek it out as you stimulate me in a way that few things beyond physics can achieve. I never thought to ever be this attached to another person. You're like a parasite in my intestine that I can't rid myself of. And, the longer this goes on, the more I realize I don't wish to be rid of the parasite. It's extremely uncomfortable for me."

It wasn't a declaration of love, but it was close enough for her. Amy's joy was immediate. She threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on her boyfriend worthy of _Casablanca_. He allowed the kiss for a moment before pulling her back.

"Woman, we don't have time for this kind of foolishness. We're getting married whether I want to or not. If anyone sees you kissing me, it's going to get back to Granddaddy and make him think I just proposed. That will make all of this worse," he chided.

"I see. Why is it exactly that you believe we have to get married?"

"Because Granddaddy said so." He rattled that off so matter-of-factly, it was like he was naming the atomic number of helium.

"Sheldon, you are a grown man with your own life in California. He is an old man in a wheelchair in Texas. How can he dictate your life choices?"

"Because he has in the past. For example, I was ready to attend college by the end of the third grade. Granddaddy heard this and put his foot down. He told my father I wasn't ready and I had to put off my dreams for another two years. Two years!"

"But, you are no longer a child. You can do whatever you like now," she reminded.

"No, I can't. I'm a Cooper. This has been drilled into me from birth. The Cooper family is patriarchal and Granddaddy rules with an iron fist. What he says goes for everyone. More than once growing up I have been spanked by this man. I was not a troublesome child—not like my brother or my cousins—but if I heard Granddaddy say something that was incorrect, I had to correct him. It was a compulsion, not an option." He sighed. "It still is. But, in his eyes, this behavior was considered disrespectful. Therefore, I carried as many spankings as the others did whenever we visited him in the summer. He has six children, thirty-three grandchildren, and seventeen great-grandchildren. He has spanked every one of us at least once."

"So, because he was physically abusive to everyone—"

"Physically abusive?" Sheldon cried. "Granddaddy would never abuse anyone."

Amy blinked in confusion. "You just said he spanked everyone."

"Spanking doesn't always equate to physical abuse, Amy," Sheldon reproved. "In my family, it is a punishment usually expended to moderate particularly abhorrent behavior. Mom, Dad, and my Meemaw have all spanked me at least once. Even now, if I provoked her in just the right way, my mother would have no qualms about turning me over her knee and—" His features paled once more as something seemed to occur to him. "Do you believe I was being abusive the night I spanked you?"

"Of course not. I enjoyed that," she said. The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to recall them.

"You 'enjoyed' the spanking?" he exclaimed. His eyes were so wide she could see the whites of his eyeballs.

Her mind raced to explain this in a way he would understand and not think he was dating some kind of sexual pervert. _Sheldon, I was so starved for physical affection that a spanking felt good to me? No, he'd never be able to fully comprehend that without the statistics I gathered and the charts I made. All that research I did and, when I really need it, I—_

"Perhaps I didn't spank you hard enough," he said more to himself than her. "I tried to intensify the pressure initially. But, as I have never actually delivered a spanking before, I suppose there is a margin for error. If I increased the force of my hand striking your bottom by six percent—"

Sheldon was unintentionally arousing his girlfriend, and Amy desperately needed him to stop. "We can figure that out later. Let's discuss your grandfather. So, because he is the patriarch of the Cooper family and has indicated that he would like us to wed, you believe we will do so? Sheldon, that's crazy."

He lurched rigidly away from her, obviously affronted. "I am not crazy. My mother had me tested."

She sighed. "I didn't say you were crazy. I said the notion that we are required to marry because of the idle aspirations of an old man is crazy."

"Yet, that is the way it is." The light had gone out of his eyes once more as the knowledge settled over him again. "You stood up to him. Why did you do that? Why not cower like the rest of us? He goes away faster that way."

"I'm sorry. You didn't warn me. How was I supposed to know?"

He sighed. "Assigning blame doesn't matter now. He likes you and has decided he wants you in the family. So, whether or not you or I agree, we shall soon be joined in the bonds of matrimony." He looked off into the distance. "What a waste! I could have done so much in my life. I was so young. I still had many good years of discovery left in me. What about all the good I could have done mankind?"

As Sheldon continued to list all of the ways their impending marriage was going to ruin his life, she tuned him out and started thinking of a way to get them out of this. Clearly, Sheldon believed Mr. Cooper had to power to force his hand. But, beyond the fact that the man had seemingly spanked everyone in the family at least once and delayed Sheldon's entrance into college, she was dumbfounded to discover how that might happen.

"Sheldon, what if we just refuse to get married?"

He broke off from listing and glared down at her. "You had a chance to do that, but you didn't take it, did you? You said, 'When Sheldon proposes to me, it will be of his own free will'."

"Exactly. Of your own free will."

He shook his head. "That is not the most important part of that sentence. It is the 'when' that is the problem. If you had used 'if' that would have indicated that it was a possibility. But, using 'when' not only makes that statement possible, but probable—even imminent. Now do you see how this is your fault? He asked you if you wanted to marry me and, for all intents and purposes, you agreed. Thus, in his eyes, I have only to perform the official proposal to make it so." He shook his head again and groaned. "Forgive my slang, but we are attached to another object by an inclined plane wrapped helically around an axis_."_

"You mean we're screwed?" she asked.

He scowled. "Isn't that what I just said?"

"Indeed. My apologies. However, I believe you are forgetting one important caveat to all of this. You might be familially bound by the tyrannical decrees of your grandfather, but I am not."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if you asked me to marry you, but I declined? Would that effectively take the pressure off of you?"

"Yes, but it would unduly put it on you."

Amy shrugged. "I can more than handle anything that comes up from him. As your grandfather has not spanked me andI am not a member of this clan, I am not subject to its rules. You're a Cooper, but I am a Fowler. Thus, I am free to reject any proposals if I choose. If he assumed I had agreed to marry you, that is his problem and I will tell him so. Believe me, with a mother like mine, I am used to talking my way out of marriage resolutions."

A spark of hope flared in his eyes. "You would do this for me? You understand that you would be effectively usurpinghim. I couldn't protect you. Granddaddy's wrath is—"

"If it will take that horrendous parlor from your skin and bring the life back into your eyes, I will do anything."

It wasn't a declaration of love, but it was as close as she was willing to admit to him right now. Amy watched Sheldon absorb this. Then, before she knew what was happening, she was pulled awkwardly into his embrace. He wrapped his lanky arms around her waist and buried his face into the hollow of her neck. "Thank you, Amy," he said as his warm breath grazed against her skin. "You have saved me from a life of drudgery and tedium."

She tried to focus on the fact that her boyfriend was willingly hugging her and expressing his appreciation instead of the idea that he still believed marriage to her would be so horrific. _Baby steps__, _she chanted again, and relaxed in his arms.

_My boyfriend is hugging me of his own free will. It's not perfect, but I'll take it._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_"I believe the appropriate metaphor here involves a river of excrement and a Native American water vessel without any means of propulsion."_  
_**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 2)**__  
"The Lizard-Spock Expansion"_

"Traitor."

Amy looked up to see an apparently perturbed Missy staring her down, hands on hips. _What on earth could this be about_? She and Sheldon had just returned to the main picnic shelter in anticipation of lunch. Sheldon went off to talk to his mother and grandmother while Amy was confronted by Missy.

Her mind zipped through her various interactions with Sheldon's sister, but could find no behavior on her part that could be construed as offensive. "I do not follow. How did I betray you?"

"I thought we agreed to keep my brother dangling for a while." Missy rolled her eyes. "Yet, I'm here three seconds and find out that you two are making out."

"Making out?" Amy exclaimed. "We were doing no such thing! Who said this?"

"Hank. He said you two were going at it like a couple of squirrels in heat. Mom's probably giving Sheldon fits about his less-than-gentlemanly behavior right now."

Amy was mortified at the thought that someone had seen them or that her physical relationship with her boyfriend was now being discussed between him and his mother. "We were not 'making out'. It was a simple peck and I—"

Missy pounced on this like a detective who'd just discovered an important clue. "So you admit you and Sheldon were kissing?" She laughed. "Looks like I underestimated the seductive powers of my brother. Who knew he'd have any though?"

Amy stiffened in alarm. "Sheldon did not 'seduce me' into forgiving him. We discussed our issues and found mutually beneficially way of solving them."

Missy smirked. "Yeah, that's what all the girls say. Did he bring you chocolates?"

"No. It was a six-pack of Yoo-Hoo."

Missy laughed even louder at that. "To each their own, honey." She looked Amy's outfit over. "I'm glad to see you at least wore the dress I gave you. You look real cute. Now, come over and meet my boyfriend."

"You brought the man who cheated on you to a family reunion?" Amy asked.

"No, that was Frank. I dumped him yesterday. This one is Riley." She arched an eyebrow at Amy in disbelief. "Did you really think I'd stay with a cheater?"

"I believe my confusion stems from the fact that you dumped your old boyfriend yesterday and spent the evening with me and your family. When did you have time to gain a new one?"

"You know how Sheldon is the smart one in our family?"

Amy nodded, unsure what that had to do with anything.

"Well, I'm the charming one." Missy winked, grabbed Amy by the hand and dragged her over to a handsome, raven-haired man currently in a deep conversation with George Jr. "Riley," she said, touching his shoulder to gain his attention, which he readily gave her. "This is Amy, my brother's girlfriend. Amy, this is Riley Fitzgerald."

Amy immediately stuck out her hand. "How do you do, Riley?"

He shook the offered hand. "I'm fine. Pleasure to meet you, Amy," he said, before turning to look at George inquiringly.

George shook his head in answer to the unspoken question. "Oh, no. Not me. She's with Sheldon."

Missy punched her brother in the shoulder. "That was rude. Stop being a jackass and apologize or I'm gonna tell Mom how you really spent the money she lent you."

George glared at his sister before turning to deliver a swift apology to Amy. She nodded in acknowledgement, but remained silent. Sheldon's brother appeared in better spirits than when she'd seen him this morning. The shaking in his hands was gone, but his pupils were dilated and his movements seemed disjointed and abnormal. Amy had no doubt what he'd spent the requested funds on. Her only question was what—if anything—she should do about it.

"So, Amy," Riley said, obviously trying to smooth over any unpleasantness. "Missy tells me Sheldon is a rocket scientist. Is that what you do too?"

Amy frowned at Missy. Was it possible she really didn't know what her brother's profession was or was this some kind of joke? She knew for a fact that Sheldon had told her of his profession just yesterday. Could she have forgotten so soon? The comely brunette's smile gave nothing away. So, Amy pushed on. "Sheldon is actually a theoretical physicist. I am a neurobiologist."

"Oh, so you both _are_ scientists?" Riley said, his expression indicating a satisfaction that he'd deduced something correctly.

Amy couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm. "Indeed. What is your occupation?"

"Construction mostly. I also play a mean bass in a band on the weekends." He waggled his dark brows seductively at his girlfriend as he said this. Missy giggled in response and delivered a quick kiss to his lips.

Amy was confused as to how Riley's words or actions should be rewarded with a kiss, but she was kept from further debating this by Mary, who came over to claim Amy for the purpose of "making the rounds". Thus, Amy spent the next thirty minutes sorting through a dizzying array of aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, third cousins, one great-aunt, in-laws, and good friends who were so close they were considered family. Sheldon might have deemed lengthy introductions tedious, but Mary had no such qualms. No, she showed Amy off like she was a double issue of _Neuron_.

"This is Sheldon's girlfriend, Dr. Amy Fowler. Not only is she prettier than a new calf, but she's real smart too. Amy's at top of her field, you know. Gonna cure addiction, this one is, and she's been a pure Godsend for helping to bring around my Shelly," Mary said.

Amy was quite unused to this level of adulation. At Fowler family events, her own mother usually spent the whole time making excuses as to why her daughter wasn't married or lacked any potential marital prospects. This kind of turnaround was both embarrassing and flattering.

"Of course," Mary would inevitably add, "she ain't found Jesus yet, but I'm working on that. One thing at a time, you know."

As Amy had no idea how to take that, she wisely refrained from commenting as they moved on to meet the next relative. Her reprieve came as lunch was called and every person in attendance sat down to dine at the long row of tables. As promised, she and Sheldon took their places near Granddaddy Cooper, who took up end of the table like a king on his throne. But Amy was pleased to see Meemaw, Mary, Missy and Riley were also seated nearby. George Jr. was the only one from their immediate group to sit at the far end of the table. Amy assumed he did this to prevent his mother from noticing the signs of his altered condition. She again pondered what to do about that particular situation, but the proceedings of lunch soon had her focusing on other things.

The blessing was delivered as well as a few words of welcome from the event organizers before the floor was officially turned over to Granddaddy.

"Family and friends, it is good to see you all made it out another year," he gruffly said. "I know you've all drove and flown in from many different states across the country. My granddaughter Katie even came all the way from Germany. Seeing each of you gathered before me today does my heart real proud. Quite a few in-laws and three great-grandbabies were added to our ranks this year—Thankfully, they were all girls and none were named after me." He paused and ran his silver gaze over the party before him. "But we've suffered our share of loss this year as well. A few months ago, my baby brother Jack went on to join our parents, my beloved wife, Jewel, and my son George Sr."

"They're watching down on us from heaven," Mary interjected.

"Indeed they are." He raised his Solo cup of iced tea into the air. "My papa had a saying he liked to share every year about this time. Just because he ain't here to do himself don't mean we don't continue the tradition. So, raise your glasses and say it with me. 'May the Coopers forever thrive, even in the midst of thorns!'"

"Here! Here!"

Everyone clicked their plastic cups together and drank. And, with that, food was passed, plates were filled, and lunch was devoured. Meemaw and Mary were the recipients of an avalanche of compliments and even one half-hearted marriage proposal delivered from Beau, who declared his love for the corn muffins. Meemaw blushed prettily and waved all of these sentiments off.

Amy delved into her own plate, enjoying the fried chicken and corn fritters especially while she observed the assorted interactions between family members. It was almost like dinner theater. Aunt Gladys scolded Hank for not bringing his current significant other when "even Sheldon" had done so. Across the way, Katie regaled anyone who would listen with the particulars of her trip to Germany. Beau and his wife, Reagan, reprimanded an unruly toddler who refused to stop throwing squash at her older brother the second their backs were turned. Most interesting of all were the interactions between family members and Sheldon. It was the oddest thing she'd ever seen.

"Sheldon, what is it you do again?"

"I'm a theoretical physicist, Uncle John."

Uncle John looked at his wife, who said, "Scientist."

"So, you teach science?"

Sheldon flinched. "No, I'm a theoretical physicist. I help humankind better understand the mechanical workings of the cosmos."

The uncle once more looked at Aunt Gladys, who shrugged.

"So, you're a teacher then," Uncle John finally announced. "What grade do you teach?"

"I am employed at Caltech as a Senior Theoretical Physicist. While I occasionally lecture on my findings to graduate students and the like, I am not now nor will I ever be a professor. Why would I? I am at the top of my field and well on my way to receiving a Nobel Prize. Good Lord! What's next? I should work as a grease monkey at Jiffy Lube?"

John looked at his wife, who said, "He teaches at a university."

John nodded, smiled at everyone else as though he was a spy who'd successfully decoded an enemy message, and said, "Did y'all hear that? Sheldon is a science teacher at the university!"

Sheldon looked appalled as everyone began immediately congratulating him. With a few muttered comments, he rolled his eyes and dug back into his plate.

That was when Amy grasped what was really going on here. The Coopers were treating Sheldon like he spoke a different language or was somehow developmentally delayed. While she and Sheldon knew his intelligence to be a supreme gift to humanity, his non-immediate family apparently saw it as nothing more than a handicap preventing him from interacting normally.

_Curiouser and curiouser_, she thought with a shake of her head. _This explains so much._

Amy wanted to observe some more, but was prevented from doing so by a nudge delivered to her arm. She turned to her left.

"Howdy, girly," Mr. Cooper said, giving her a sly wink.

'_Girly'? Here we go again. _He might as well have pulled out a red cape and yelled "Ole!"

"Hello, Mr. Cooper," Amy replied, not rising to his obvious bait.

He smiled. Her stomach tightened unexpectedly with nerves. Amy could almost hear him shouting "Point Cooper" in his mind. She could certainly see where Sheldon got his competitive streak from. Her stomach clenched as other things occurred to her. Perhaps her plan with Sheldon wasn't such a good one after all. _What if it doesn't work?_ Apparently, Granddaddy saw this as some kind of chess game. What if she lost? Worse, what if she won and Sheldon somehow took this as permission to never have to propose to her ever? With that, her brain went into full panic mode. How could she not have considered the ramifications of all of this before?

The old man let out a rasping laugh. "You may as well call me Granddaddy like all the rest. From what I hear, you'll be a Cooper soon enough anyway."

Amy's eyes went wide. _What does he mean by that?_ Had Hank told him about seeing her and Sheldon kiss? Did Granddaddy—as Sheldon had worried—think that their kiss meant his grandson had proposed and she had accepted? She looked over at her boyfriend, who, strangely enough, didn't appear at all disturbed by this comment. The fact that Sheldon seemingly had so much faith in her ability to get them out of this situation was somewhat gratifying, but it didn't make her feel better.

"What's all this?" Mary interrupted. "You aren't trying to push my baby into getting married before his time, are you, Granddaddy? You remember when you did that with George Jr., right? His marriage didn't even last a year before he was divorced."

Granddaddy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm just saying Sheldon's got quite a little filly here. He'd be a fool to let her get away. Besides, sounds to me like he already proposed."

Sheldon didn't look up from his plate as he corrected the old man. "No, I didn't."

Before Granddaddy could respond, Meemaw broke in. "Well I, for one, am glad to see my moon pie is using his noggin. He recognizes that a woman like Amy is special. She needs to be courted and romanced slowly; not dumped into the middle of a family reunion and proposed to out of nowhere. What woman wants that?" She reached over to pat Sheldon's hand. "Well done, honey."

Sheldon looked slightly confused by this compliment, but Amy seemed to be the only one who noticed this. Everyone else was too busy watching Reagan and the other female in-laws tearing into their respective spouses.

"How come you didn't take the time to romance me?" Reagan demanded.

"Yeah," another one added. "You proposed to me at this very reunion. Are you saying you only did it because Granddaddy told you to?"

After that, the rest of the lunch regressed to a performance worthy of a televised situation comedy. The female in-laws remained irate with their now overly-apologetic husbands. Meemaw and Mary were declared goddesses as everyone dug into the pecan pies, chocolate cake, and peach torts they had made. Aunt Gladys questioned Sheldon about whether he lived close to any movie stars, which caused him to deliver a five-minute lecture on the geographical distance between Pasadena and Hollywood. At the end of this, Aunt Gladys simply looked at her husband, and said, "Does that mean 'no'?" And, finally, while Granddaddy was blocked from his main reason for making Amy dine near him, he still used his close proximity and position to demand her promise to return to next year's event.

As she had already agreed to this with Sheldon just yesterday, she smiled and said, "Of course."

A mollified Granddaddy sat back, running his fingers along the inside of his red suspenders. "Next year," he said, almost to himself.

Amy didn't want to know what he meant by that. Instead, she was curious how this whole thing had turned out so easy. She'd been so worried. But a few words from Mary and Meemaw had effortlessly diffused what could have been an explosive set of circumstances.

She contemplated this until the end of the lunch and all through the clean-up, but could find no reasonable explanation. She and Sheldon were invited to play cards with Missy, Riley, Beau, Reagan, and George. It was only when she and her boyfriend were on their way over to that particular tent that she mentioned the conundrum to him and found out the truth of the matter. Then, she only wondered how an intelligent being such as herself could have missed an answer so simple.

Sheldon explained his reasoning logically. Granddaddy had cornered them using his power and influence. The only two possible outcomes were their immediate agreement to be married or a series of punishments and emotional force from Granddaddy which would eventually compel them to accept marriage. Amy had agreed to deflect Granddaddy's anger to herself by refusing, of course. After further consideration, however, Sheldon had realized this would not actually free them from this problem. Granddaddy would have found a way around her and made a spectacle of them in front of the family in the process. The embarrassment and pressure would be too much to take. Thus, another solution was warranted. So, faced with a seemingly impossible situation, Sheldon employed the one failsafe guaranteed to save him whenever he got in over his head.

He tattled to his mother.

**A/N: Thanks for all the lively and lovely comments (especially the one in Brazilian Portuguese—You know who you are). The three "F's" are always inspiring (Feedback, Follows, and Favorites). You guys are the best. More reviews are always welcome, of course. But, if you have cheered, laughed so hard you almost fell out of your chair, tugged on your hair, cussed your laptop, or have exclaimed "Oh, no he didn't!" at least once while reading this story, I'll consider that as proof enough that I've done my job well. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_"I don't care what the bosoms say, Sheldon. I just want to be part of the conversation."  
__**Howard Wolowitz (TBBT Season 2)**__  
"The Codpiece Topology"_

"Amy, you're sunburnt."

"What?" Amy, who had just returned from a rousing set of tetherball matches with Missy and Riley, looked down at her body in an effort to see what Meemaw was talking about. She'd had such a good time this afternoon she had completely forgotten about reapplying sunscreen. Sure enough, her arms and the top of her chest were already well on their way to resembling a lobster. She hadn't been uncomfortable before. But, now that the condition was brought to her attention, the heat and tightness in her skin became achingly apparent.

"It's Missy's fault," Sheldon groused, getting up from his seat next to his grandmother to examine the burns.

"Me? Why me?" Missy asked.

"Because you talked her into wearing this cloth napkin of a dress. As such, she's been practically naked all day. Plus, you kept her out in the sun for _two hours_ playing that ridiculous game. What were you thinking?" Sheldon shot a glare at his sister. "Amy, I warned you to reapply sunscreen when we finished playing cards with the others. Why did you not comply?" He awkwardly reached out. Unsure where he should touch her, he delivered a consoling pat to her head. "Poor kid. That looks painful. I'll go get the aloe vera."

He rushed off. Missy's jaw dropped as she watched him go. Dumbfounded, she flipped around to Amy. "Girl, who was that man, and what have you done with my brother?"

Amy shrugged, wincing at the pain that movement caused. "I don't know what you mean."

"That's the most I've ever seen him care about anyone who wasn't himself or Meemaw," Missy replied. "The last time I got sunburned, he smirked and delivered a twenty-minute sermon on the dangers of deadly microwaves."

"You mean UV rays," Amy corrected.

"Whatever. That boy's got it bad for you."

Amy was thankful for the sunburn so nobody would be aware of how much Missy's statement embarrassed her. _Oh, if only what she'd said was true. _"Our relationship agreement contains a clause that covers illness and the like. If one of us is in need of medical assistance, first aid, or caregiving; the other is responsible for ensuring and/or providing that care. Sheldon is merely fulfilling his contractual obligation to me."

"A 'relationship agreement'? What the heck is that?"

"Missy," Meemaw interrupted, "it's getting late. Stop interrogating this girl about stuff that isn't your business. You and Riley go help with the packing up."

Missy looked like she wanted to protest, but she didn't. Instead, she grabbed her boyfriend and went off to do as she was bid. "Later," she promised Amy before they left.

Amy wasn't able to worry about the ramifications of that long.

"Honey, why don't you come over here and sit down," Meemaw invited, pointing to the chair next to her. They were in the small tent Sheldon and George had pitched for their grandmother to rest in earlier. Grateful, Amy took the offered chair, settling against it gingerly as to not aggravate her sunburn.

She took stock of her injuries. In addition to her arms below the elbow, she had blistered the entire front of her chest, from the bottom of her neck to the top of the bodice of her dress. Even the delicate skin between her bosoms was pink and irritated. "I don't know why I forgot to reapply the sunscreen," she said, disgusted with herself. "I'm usually more attentive than this."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You were having a good time. And, after the morning I heard you had, you certainly deserved it."

As Amy wasn't sure which part of the morning Meemaw was talking about, she nodded instead of making a formal reply. This movement caused an unwelcome stinging sensation where the nape of her neck met the collar of the white shrug. "Ouch. I think the nape of my neck is burned, too," she said.

"Get up and let me see," Meemaw ordered, standing up from her chair. Turning Amy away from her, she gingerly peeled back the shrug. "Oh my goodness. The sun got you here good. Let's take off your little sweater so I can get a better look."

The second the shrug was removed, a light, welcome breeze eased over her sweaty and scorched epidermis.

"Amy, I hate it for you, but you're going to be in some pain tonight. Make sure you take a cold shower when you get to the motel and reapply the aloe vera before you go to bed," Meemaw ordered.

The soothing tone of Meemaw's voice did a lot to take away the sting of the burn. But, Amy could already feel her skin swelling and knew the relief wouldn't last long. "I will. Don't worry."

As she was faced away from the main opening of the tent, she heard rather than saw Sheldon return with the aloe vera. "Goodness, Amy," he declared, obviously taking notice of her back. "You're burned on your neck too. Hold still while I put on the gel."

She closed her eyes once the coolness of the aloe was spread over her neck. As his fingers worked to coat her, Sheldon lectured her on proper skin care. Unfortunately, Amy was too preoccupied to follow what he was saying. She was caught up in the tantalizing feel of her boyfriend's hand nimbly stroking her. It was divine.

Then, she remembered they were not alone. Her eyes popped open to catch Meemaw watching her. The woman's bemused expression told her she was well aware of what Amy had been enjoying. Humiliated, Amy coughed and looked down. _Great job, Fowler. Meemaw now thinks you're some kind of shameless hussy taking advantage of her innocent grandson_.

"Done. Turn around so I can get your front," Sheldon voice was brusque and businesslike.

Amy did so, more so she could get away from Meemaw's x-ray stare than anything else. Sheldon started smearing the top of her chest with the same professional aloofness he'd used countless times before. As he moved down, her nipples hardened in response. _Not now, endocrine system_, she reprimanded herself. _Meemaw is right behind you_.

About the time she'd successfully reined in her own libido, however, a bigger problem presented itself. Sheldon had been dabbing aloe along the line of the bodice of her dress. Then, without warning, his fingers dipped beneath the line to coat between the valley of her breasts. She stiffened at this sudden, intimate contact and looked up at him.

Sheldon froze, seemingly unable to decide how best to deal with situation. His eyes and hand, however, remained focused on Amy's bosom, especially on the nipples plainly pressing through the fabric of the sundress.

"Give that to me," Meemaw said, holding out a hand to take the white tube of ointment. "I'll finish up. Moon Pie, why don't you go help the others pack up so we can go home?"

Sheldon gulped, unable to move or respond.

"Moon Pie? Sheldon?" Meemaw said. "Sheldon!"

Jarred by having his name yelled, he looked over at his grandmother in alarm. "Y-y-yes, ma'am. Sorry," he squeaked. He extracted his hand, tossed the gel at her, and scrambled out of the tent without another word.

Amy wasn't sure what to make of that. Sheldon's response clearly indicated sexual arousal. This was certainly a vast improvement from the time he'd applied Vaporub to her chest. The only one who had been affected then had been her. Yet, as much as this development was good news, his first real spark of sexual arousal for her had taken place in the presence of his grandmother. Thus, the resultant confusion and embarrassment Amy had expected him to feel whenever this moment came would be far worsened. This, unless she missed her guess, would mean this exciting step forward was going to be following with about three giant leaps backward.

She sighed. _Which means more rejection and awkwardness from Sheldon_, she thought. _It seems to be the theme of this weekend._

"Amy, turn around."

Sheldon wasn't the only one dealing with confusion and embarrassment, but Amy knew it was better to just face the situation logically and head on. The humiliation always faded faster that way. So, she turned as directed and let Meemaw finish covering her burns in aloe vera.

Once Meemaw had completed her task, she capped the tube and handed it to Amy. "Take this with you. You'll need it tonight. And don't put that sweater back on. You need to let the aloe soak into your skin." Then, she moved way and began packing up her personal belongings.

"Meemaw," Amy began, trying to find the right words to explain. "I didn't mean for—"

Meemaw glanced around at her. "No need for explanations. What happened is perfectly natural for a young couple in love."

Amy tried to collect herself, but Meemaw's last statement kept replaying in her mind. Knowing there would be very little alone time with Meemaw before she and Sheldon returned to California tomorrow, she took her one chance to ask a question that had been in the back of her mind since yesterday.

"What makes you think he loves me? He's told you specifically that he doesn't."

Meemaw grinned. "Sheldon may be the smartest man in the world, but he's still a man. When it comes to men, they're all the same. The truth of their feelings is always in their eyes, especially when they look at their lady love."

Amy was puzzled. "What look? Is it the one where he tilts his head to the side and softens his smile? If so, I believe you are talking about his koala face. I assure you that has nothing to do with me. It usually indicates he is either lying or, in fact, observing koalas. He loves koalas. He also has a look he gets when watching trains. It's very whimsical, childlike and sweet. But, then again, he loves trains."

The older woman shook her head as she zipped her large, red purse closed and set it on her chair. "I doubt you've ever seen the look I'm talking about. I doubt Sheldon is even aware he's doing it. But, he does, especially when your back is turned."

Amy refused to allow her hopes to get up. Clearly, Meemaw was mistaken. She couldn't let her go around under such illusions. "When was the last time you saw this look? Was it when he found out Aunt Gladys brought cobbler? When he eats cobbler, he has this expression that could be misconstrued as lovesick. Because, you know, he really loves cobbler."

"He really loves _you_, honey. But, just for the tally books, he had the look when he was sitting in here with me watching you play tetherball with Missy and her boyfriend. There wasn't any cobbler, trains, or koalas around. In fact, I could barely get the boy to listen to a word I was saying because he was so focused on you," Meemaw explained.

_Really?_ Amy thought this over for a moment before dismissing it again. She'd actually gotten excited for a minute there. But, once more, logic prevailed. "No, you misunderstood. It's because he was worried about my risking skin cancer. Sheldon is always aware of things like this."

Meemaw snorted. "Amy," she said, picking up the purse and plopping it down on the ground. "Have a seat. You and I are going to have a woman-to-woman chat."

Amy acquiesced, wondering what this could be about. Meemaw's nonverbal cues were signaling this discussion would be serious and somewhat chiding in tone, but she couldn't figure out what other social mores she could have broken in the last 60 seconds. "Yes?" she asked.

"You're a neurobiologist, which means you work mainly with the brain, right?"

"Yes."

"And, you are obviously intelligent."

Amy frowned, growing more concerned. "Yes. My IQ isn't as high as Sheldon's, of course, but I am only a few points shy of him."

"It's easy to see that you're better at picking up what's going on around you than Sheldon is. So, with all these abilities at your disposal, why do you refuse to see what's right in front of your face?"

Amy pondered this, but came up empty-handed. "I don't follow, Meemaw."

Meemaw sighed and muttered to herself. "'There are none so blind as those who will not see.'" She smiled and started again. "You're more like Moon Pie than I gave you credit for, honey. Let me put this another way. Do you love Sheldon?"

Amy swallowed hard. She'd never admitted that out loud to anyone before. Not even to Penny.

"Well?" Meemaw prompted.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, why do you think Shelly doesn't love you back?"

"It's too soon for him to be in love with me."

"Too soon?" she asked, her gray eyebrows rounding in surprise. "Haven't you been dating for over two years? Shelly's letters indicated that you have."

"Yes," Amy said, finally feeling like she was returning to solid footing in this conversation. "But, according to my relationship trajectory chart, he won't fall in love with me for another year and a half. And, even then, he'll keep the news to himself at first. Three more months will pass before he gets up the courage to vocalize his feelings to me."

Meemaw blinked, frowned, and then blinked again. "'Relationship trajectory chart'? What in the world is that?"

Amy beamed proudly. "It's the step-by-step process I've designed to plot the course of my relationship with your grandson from platonic to romantic. I have a PowerPoint presentation I could show you, but it's on my laptop back at the motel."

"Let me see if I have this straight." Meemaw paused for a bit before she spoke. "You put together a recipe book for how to seduce my grandson?"

_Oh my God, she does think I'm a shameless hussy!_ "Seduce? No! I wouldn't do that. My intentions—I assure you—are much more honorable. I love Sheldon and plan to spend the rest of my life with him," Amy reasoned.

Meemaw bit back a smile. "I see. Am I right in assuming that this plan of yours includes marriage and children at some point?"

"Absolutely. Would you like to know the perspective date for our impending nuptials?"

"No, I think I'd rather be surprised," Meemaw said with a laugh. "Are you proposing or is he?"

"He is, of course. I am a traditionalist, after all," Amy replied.

"_Of course._ Glad to hear it." Meemaw took a deep breath. "Honey, I think it's wonderful that you love Sheldon and that you have put so much thought into being with him. But, speaking as his grandmother and a person who has known him his whole life, you must believe me when I tell you that boy's in love with you. Not eighteen months from now. Today."

_He loves me?_ Amy tried to absorb this statement. But, it was like she'd been coated in a non-permeable casing. Her brain was too scattered to hold a real thought and her heart was pounding so violently in her chest that she thought she might be having a heart attack. She tried to remember to breathe, but she was too overcome with glee. She wanted to laugh and jump and dance and run and skip and fly—all at the same time. _He loves me!_

"But, this is way too early. I don't understand how this could have happened so quickly," she said, scrambling to make sense of all of this.

"Love doesn't work on a timetable, Amy. One minute, you're sorting through sweet potatoes. The next, you've met your soul mate. Believe me, I know."

Before Amy could reply, Sheldon, Hank, and a few of the others showed up to begin disassembling Meemaw's tent. Amy grinned at Sheldon, but he wouldn't even look at her. Her shoulders slumped in dismay. Sheldon might indeed love her, but she was going to have a heck of a time getting him to realize it, much less tell her.

"You boys about got everything ready to go?"

A chorus of "Yes, ma'ams" quickly followed. Meemaw nodded. "Sheldon, Amy is going to drive me back to the house. You follow on over with your sister when y'all get finished here, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sheldon croaked, keeping his gaze firmly locked on his work.

Meemaw pulled a white, lacy parasol from her purse and handed it to Amy. "Here. You'll need this to protect your skin from the sun while we walk. It's what we used to call sunscreen in my day."

Amy cracked a smile and followed the woman out of the tent. However, as they strolled to her rental car, all of her earlier elation was being overwhelmed with a feeling of dread. Between the happenings earlier and the knowledge that he loved her, Amy knew Sheldon was going to be difficult to deal with later. _If he even speaks to me at all after this._

She moaned in dismay.

Meemaw put an arm around her waist, offering comfort as though she could read Amy's mind. And, after having spent the last forty-eight hours with the woman, she was beginning to believe Meemaw just might have that ability.

They continued on to the parking area this way. Amy spent the time strategizing plans on how to best deal with her boyfriend once they were alone. But, each idea seemed inherently flawed because she knew Sheldon's stubbornness and phobias were going to make an already difficult situation almost impossible. If she were in Pasadena, this would have been easier to handle. She would have given Sheldon his space, but maintained contact through Skype, email and texts. Then, by the time their next date night had come around, she would have had a failsafe way of handling him. But, being here, they would be in each other's company for most of the next twenty-four hours. Sheldon would feel cornered, which would make him panic, which would make all of this incredibly worse.

She sighed again and shook her head. "Impossible," she muttered to herself.

"You know, Amy," Meemaw said as they trudged along. "I read there used to be one large mass of land in this world instead of seven continents."

"Yes, it is thought that approximately 225 million years ago, all the current continents were assembled into a supercontinent known as Pangea. According to the theory of plate tectonics, Earth's outer shell is divided into a series of plates. These plates consist of the crust and a minor amount of the underlying mantle. The plates slide over a weak zone in the mantle at a rate of a few centimeters per year. Convection currents in the mantle—caused by the escape of heat from Earth's interior—drives the movement of these plates. Thus, over time, these slight movements have pushed the continents to their present locations," Amy explained, curious as to why Meemaw would bring this up now. "Why?"

The woman smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze. "It seems to me that if time and pressure can move mountains like that, then nothing's impossible."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_""Yeah, yeah, you want a cigarette. Well, I'd like a normal boyfriend. Deal with it."  
__**Amy Farrah Fowler (TBBT Season 6)**__  
"The Monster Isolation"_

Like the medulla oblongata, pons, and middle cerebellar peduncle, Amy knew Sheldon Cooper. Therefore, his behavior was fairly easy to predict. When faced with an emotional conflict or unsavory outcome, he would regress in maturity and retreat into himself until he could devise a plan to circumvent the issue. Thus, during the few hours they spent at his mother's house following the reunion, she'd expected him to avoid her like the bubonic plague.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

If anything, Sheldon seemed perfectly normal. He was calm, ordered, and rational. He spent an hour detailing his latest research to his grandmother and patiently answering any resulting questions she had. He joined Missy and Riley on the couch when they announced their intentions to view _Avatar._ And, with the exception of demanding Riley remove himself from his spot, Sheldon was the epitome of his usual, polite-yet-aloof self to all.

Amy was immediately suspicious. If she bought into that hokum they called science fiction, she would have thought he'd been replaced with some sort of pod person. So, while Sheldon watched the film, Amy sat in the recliner watching him. When they dined on leftovers from the reunion, she ignored her food and watched him. When Missy tried to induce Amy to come into her room for some "girl talk," she brushed her off so she could watch Sheldon play a video game with Riley. Even when her phone buzzed with a call from Penny, she ignored it in favor of keeping her eye on her "normal-acting" boyfriend.

The only time her attention was diverted from this self-appointed observation time was when George showed up after dinner. Sheldon's brother came in with the force of a hurricane wind. He didn't speak to anyone as he plowed into the kitchen in search of food. The second the kitchen door closed, there was a loud crash of what sounded like metal pots hitting the floor. Mary immediately followed after him, but whether it was to reproach him for his rude behavior or to serve him food, Amy couldn't be sure.

Meemaw, sitting on the edge of the couch, visibly tensed at George's entrance. Missy, upon seeing her eldest brother, rolled her eyes and tugged Riley on the arm.

"C'mon," she said, "let me walk you to your car."

"Am I ready to go home?" Riley asked, confused to be pulled away from his game.

"Believe me, you don't want to be around here right now," Missy replied, coaxing him to the door.

"But, I do and—" Riley insisted.

"Two words, honey. 'French kissing.'"

"Right," he said. "Goodnight, everyone!"

With a jaunty wave, he and Missy disappeared out the door. Sheldon, meanwhile, packed up the console and games. His back was still to Amy when he said, "Amy, get your things together. It is time to return to the motel."

_What is going on here?_ Amy's eyes darted from Meemaw to her boyfriend. "According to the itinerary, we're not scheduled to leave for another ninety minutes, Sheldon."

"_Now_, Amy," Sheldon ordered, rising from the floor to return the video game console to the hall closet.

Amy jumped. She'd never heard Sheldon speak to her this way before. It intimidated and excited her at the same time. She glanced over to Meemaw, who looked irritated and, suddenly, very tired. But, the second she noticed Amy's gaze on her, she produced a wide smile. "He's right. It's getting late, honey. We'll see y'all tomorrow. We're having breakfast with you before you head off to the airport. Right, Moon Pie?"

Sheldon returned to the living room, holding Amy's purse and shrug. "Indeed. Eight in the morning sharp," he answered. He handed the items to Amy before turning to call to his mother. "Mom, Amy and I are leaving now."

Missy returned from outside just as Mary came back from the kitchen. Amy had expected Sheldon's mother to protest her son's premature removal from her house. But, instead, she ushered them over to the front door.

"We'll see you both in the morning at the diner," Mary said. "Are you sure you won't go to church with us tomorrow, Shelly? Reverend Caldwell and Jesus would love to see you."

Sheldon shook his head. "We will need adequate time to get checked in and make it through airport security, Mom. Besides, our deal indicates that I only need attend church once per annum. I have already fulfilled that request this year."

"But, George Jr. even said he'd go with us," Mary added.

"Another reason for me to refuse your invitation," Sheldon replied. He allowed his mother to hug him before turning to bid his sister goodbye. "Missy, I beg you to stop telling your friends that I am a rocket scientist. Surely the humiliation I have derived thus far has more than adequately fulfilled your yearly quota for sibling mockery."

"You're right," Missy said, kissing him on the cheek before he could duck away. "I won't do it anymore."

Sheldon's shoulders relaxed in obvious relief. "Thank you."

Missy winked. "I'll just tell them you're a science teacher at a big fancy university in California. At least, that's what you said at the reunion."

"I did not," Sheldon complained. "It is not my fault that—"

"Children, stop that squabbling before you scare Amy off," Mary scolded. When another crash sounded, Mary darted a series of anxious glances at the closed kitchen door.

"Is everything all right?" Amy asked her.

Mary grabbed Amy into a forceful hug. "It's fine. George Jr.'s just in a mood. Don't worry. I'll talk him down. I always do." She patted her on the back. "Now," she said, pulling back to look at her. "You come back to visit us with Sheldon anytime, you hear? You're always welcome."

"Yeah," Missy sardonically added, "especially if you come by yourself."

Sheldon, who was currently hugging Meemaw, frowned at his sister over the older woman's shoulder. "Why on earth would she ever come here without me? I'm her boyfriend, and this is my hometown. You're being ridiculous, Missy."

Missy rolled her eyes before hugging Amy. "Remember to stay in touch," she said. "Make Sheldon give you my cell number and email address. And, if he won't fork it over, get it from Penny. You and I have lots to talk about. I'll be coming to Pasadena for a visit in a few months. Maybe I'll stay with you instead of Shelly-bean."

Sheldon immediately objected. "Absolutely not. Penny has already been too much of a bad influence on Amy. I refuse to allow you to corrupt her further."

Amy ignored the twins' continued squabbling in favor of saying goodbye to Meemaw. The older woman smiled as she pulled Amy into her embrace. As always, it was a blissful, serene experience. But, this time, there was an added element of vulnerability to Sheldon's grandmother that left Amy unnerved. "Are you all right?" Amy whispered in her ear. "Should we stay?"

"We'll be fine. George Jr.'s just had a little too much to drink. Mary knows how to deal with him. Don't you worry none," Meemaw whispered back. She gave her heartfelt squeeze. "I love you, honey. You'll come back to see me soon, right?"

Amy snuggled into the grandmother's arms, unable to stop the tears forming in her eyes. "I will. I promise. I love you too, Meemaw," she said. And, she meant it. Even though it was quite illogical to love someone one had barely known for two days, Amy knew that she did indeed love this woman and always would.

— —

The ride to the motel was a somber affair. When she asked Sheldon to explain what had precipitated their hasty exit, he waved off her concerns and looked out the window.

"Is it George Jr.'s rampant abuse of alcohol?"

Sheldon's head darted around. "How do you know about that?" he demanded. "Did Missy tell you?"

"No. But as a person who has worked on more than one addiction study, did you really not expect me to notice the symptoms?"

Sheldon slowly nodded. "You are correct, of course. Once again, your intelligence and keen observations skills do you credit, Amy."

A moment passed before she realized that was apparently all he planned to say about the affair. Amy, of course, wasn't willing to let it go. It was obvious he was upset.

"Sheldon, talk to me. I'm your girlfriend and would like to offer you comfort anyway I can."

Silence filled the car as Sheldon thought this over. Finally, he let out a long sigh and said, "I'm not a hippie, Amy. Talking about my feelings will not make me feel better any more than it will it make George Jr. cease his incessant need to overindulge in alcoholic beverages."

Amy wasn't offended. She knew how hard it was for him to even admit as much as he just had. So, she decided to continue the debate in a different way. "Fine. I'll respect your wish not to discuss this. However, I must ask, will George Jr., in his inebriated state, bring harm Missy, your mother or Meemaw?"

Sheldon's jaw dropped. "Do you really think I would have left them there alone with him if I believed that? My brother is obnoxious and incredibly callous, but not violent. Mom is the only one able to handle him when he's like this." He sighed and shook his head. "Just like Dad." He let out a soft groan and pressed a fist against his forehead. "Now do you understand why I stay away from alcohol? Not only do you lose all control over yourself as well as basic cognitive functions, but you also hurt those around you. I wish you could know what it is like to grow up in a household where your mother is wrapped up in religion and your father is wrapped up in the bottle. You learn early on that you truly have no one but yourself to count on."

Amy's heart ached for him. She'd often felt alone while growing up, but never to this depth. Without thought, she reached out to take his hand. And, for once, Sheldon didn't reject her. If anything, he seized on to her hand as if she were his lifeline.

"Sheldon, you're never alone. You have Meemaw and Missy." She squeezed his hand before shyly admitting, "And me. You'll always have me. I hope you know that."

He looked over at her. Amy turned back to watch the road, but, from the corner of her eye, she saw that he kept his gaze firmly locked on her for the longest time. Finally, he turned back to stare out the window and nothing more was said.

— —

The peace between them wasn't broken until they reached their motel rooms.

"Amy, we should talk about what happened earlier with the aloe vera," he said, inserting the plastic key card into the electronic lock of his room.

Amy was surprised. She'd never expected him to want to tackle this problem head-on like this. As much as she knew her boyfriend, she couldn't help but be flummoxed and a bit suspicious. Still, the conversation needed to be had. If he was going to be the one to introduce the topic, she wasn't going to look a gift test monkey in the mouth.

"Sure," she said.

He ushered her inside. "I would offer you a cold beverage, but I don't have any."

"I have Yoo-hoo left over next door if you would like one," she suggested.

"No, thank you. The sooner this conversation is over, the sooner I can get to sleep. It has been trying day on many fronts and I find myself exhausted. I will be glad to return home tomorrow to the comfort and solitude of my own bed."

Amy nodded and took a seat near the window. Sheldon didn't sit. Instead, he placed himself a foot or so in front of her, hands clutched behind his back as though he were about to deliver a lecture or reprimand. But, he said nothing. As the silence continued on, Amy rushed to speak.

"Sheldon, I want—"

"Amy, I think—"

They stopped and looked at each other.

"Please," Amy invited, "finish what you were going to say."

"Thank you. Amy, I think it is prudent that we not let what happen today impede the progress we've made in our relationship."

_Really?_ Amy started to relax. "I couldn't agree more."

Sheldon paced in front of her. "I've carefully considered everything that happened. I know it was a mortifying experience for both of us and, concentrating on it too long will only made that discomfiture worse. Therefore, I have a proposal to make."

Amy sat up in the chair. She honestly had no idea what he was going to recommend. It could be anything. _A kiss, a cuddle, actual coitus?_ She felt lightheaded and giddy. After so long, her dream for taking their relationship to the next level was finally coming true. She noticed that he was pausing before he continued on. Perhaps he was nervous? It certainly made sense.

"Go on, Sheldon," she encouraged. "No matter what it is, I don't believe you'll be disappointed in my answer."

He smiled. "Thank you, Amy. That does make this easier for me." Sheldon took a deep breath, stopped pacing and faced her. "I propose we complete a relationship reboot similar to the one we did after you got drunk and kissed me. After careful consideration, I believe the most practical restart point would be from last night when we watched _Firefly_."

Amy didn't react at first. She was too shocked. Slowly, she sat back in the chair, trying to wrap her brain around this. Sheldon, of course, took this as further encouragement.

"I'm so glad to see you are contemplating this. Take as much time as you need. I had thought emotion might hinder your ability to see the logic and pragmatism behind this move. In fact, if I were completely honest, I worried you might scream at me as you did the night I informed you we would not be living together."

She concentrated on breathing. The alternative was hitting her boyfriend over the head with the nearest heavy object. Having him bring up her humiliating argument to have them live together was like injecting a deadly virus into a bacteria-filled wound. The rejection this time was too much. This wasn't just about hurt feelings or bruised egos. Amy was righteously pissed off. Still, she fought to rein in her temper. Sheldon was right. She had screamed at him that night and, really, they'd gotten nowhere. Suddenly, Meemaw's voice spoke in her head.

_I tell you that boy's in love with you. Not eighteen months from now. Today. _

And, just like that, Amy was reborn. Meemaw was right. Sheldon did love her, but he wasn't going to admit it—not without her help.

_It'll take a special woman to knock those walls down and coax him into coming out. I'm hoping you'll prove to be that woman._

_I _am_ that woman_, Amy thought. _And, it's time to prove it. _Just like that, she knew how she was going to get through to Sheldon. She was going to use logic and outwit him. And she was going to start with the truth about what happened today.

Her eyes moved up to lock with his. "I have a counterproposal."

"Really? You think we should reboot from the time we left Pasadena?" He paused to think this over and then nodded. "Very well. I accept."

"No. Your proposal is that we reboot our relationship. My counterproposal is that we rip off our clothes and utilize this bed to make the metaphoric beast with two backs."

Sheldon paled so much that she wondered if he was going to faint. "You can't be serious!"

She shrugged. "You were asking for what you wanted in your proposal. Why can I not do the same? This is a negotiation, is it not?"

"You're being ridiculous. I should have known you would not be reasonable about this," he said, shaking his head. He crossed his arms over his chest as he glared condescendingly down at her.

"You wish me to be logical? Fine," she said, rising from her chair. "You applied aloe to my chest to soothe my sunburn. You touched my breasts. You felt sexually aroused. You are confused about how to process that and what it might mean in terms of our relationship. Thus, you wish to wipe it all away as though it never occurred. Is that logical enough for you?" As she made each point, she took a step closer to him. By the time she finished, she'd backed him up against the bed.

Sheldon scrambled to get away from her. "That couldn't be further from the truth! I was not sexually aroused. I was embarrassed to be touching you in that manner because my grandmother was there." Once he'd put some distance between them, he seemed calmer. "I believe I know my feelings better than you."

"I see. So, you are saying you did not, in fact, become sexually aroused this afternoon by touching me?" Amy asked with the precision of a prosecuting attorney.

Sheldon straightened to even inch of his impressive height and wrapped his arms around his chest as if to ward her off. "No, I did not." He smirked. "I am Homo Novus and, as such, am above that kind of base urge."

Amy gave a wide nod. "All right then. Let's test your hypothesis, shall we?"

"What?"

"You have a supposition that directly contradicts mine. As a scientist, you should know that the only valid way to prove or disprove a hypothesis is to test it."

His arms relaxed as he considered this. "How do you propose we test it?"

"Kiss me for five minutes. At the end of this, we will check your vitals to see if you are showing symptoms of sexual arousal."

He was already shaking his head before she even finished her suggestion. "That won't work. You said you believe I was sexually aroused by applying gel to your chest. Kissing you would utilize different stimulus and, as such, cannot accurately prove or disprove either of our hypotheses."

"But you postulated that, as a Homo Novus, you are above sexual arousal of any kind. Thus, the type of stimuli introduced should not matter."

He shook his head again. "I refuse to submit to that test. We should devise one that will adequately test both hypotheses simultaneously."

His logic was sound, so she decided to attack this from a new angle. "Fair enough," she said, going over to her purse. Pulling what she needed from it, she pivoted and held out a white tube at him. "Here is the aloe. Put it on my chest as you did this afternoon. By reproducing our actions from earlier, we will be able to accurately test both hypotheses to find out which of us is correct and which is delusional."

Sheldon glared at her over the "delusional" crack, but, nonetheless, took the tube from her. "Fine. However, when I am proven right, I expect you to apologize and agree to the relationship reboot."

Amy thought this over for a bit before nodding. "I accept."

Then, as she watched Sheldon unseal the cap on the aloe and walk towards her, one, panicky thought kept repeating in her mind.

_Please let me be right. Please let me be right. Please let me be right._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_"Women, huh? Can't live with 'em; can't successfully refute their hypotheses."__  
__**Howard Wolowitz (TBBT Season 4)**__  
__"The Zazzy Substitution"_

Amy closed her eyes, waiting for Sheldon to touch her. But it never happened.

After a few more minutes passed, she opened her eyes to see what he was doing. Sheldon had stopped a few paces in front of her. He was staring down at the tube in his hands as if it were the key to his destruction. Under normal circumstances, this might have been troubling. But, for Amy, it was promising.

"Sheldon?" she asked, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Is there a problem?"

"No," he swiftly answered. The tic twitching at the corner of one eye, however, implied otherwise.

"Then, you should proceed with the experiment."

He nodded. "I can do this." She wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or her.

With a purposeful sigh, he squirted a thin coat of gel onto the tips of his fingers. Then, turning his head away from her, he awkwardly stretched out a hand in her general direction. The hand began to bob up and down, his fingers making aimless circles in the air.

Amy watched all of this unfold, bemused. "Sheldon, what are you doing?"

He kept his head turned away from her as he said, "I'm applying the gel to your burns per the parameters of our experiment. And see? I am completely unaffected."

She bit back a laugh. "Interesting. However, you have yet to touch me."

Sheldon flicked his head around in surprise, before giving her a smirk and a shrug. "I didn't notice a difference."

Amy rolled her eyes at his irrationality. Drastic measures were certainly in order. "Allow me to assist you," she said, grabbing his hand with the intention of placing it firmly on her chest. But, before she could do this, he snatched away.

"How dare you!" he screeched. "You're trying to influence the results to support your preposterous hypothesis."

"How so?" she asked, taking a nonchalant step towards him.

Sheldon clambered back like startled prey in the face of a hungry predator. Her eyebrows shot up at him, quizzical at this overreaction. Sheldon grimaced, but whether it was at her or because he realized his actions were merely providing fodder for her hypothesis, she didn't know.

Gingerly, she moved forward again. The tics became more pronounced the closer she got, but Sheldon tried to remain rooted in his spot. The minute she was within touching distance, however, he hid his hands behind his back as if he were afraid she might reach for them again. She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for him to answer her question. "Well?" she prompted. "How have I tried to influence the results?"

He cleared his throat. "Point of order: You did not touch me this afternoon. I touched you. When you grabbed my hand just now, you effectively tainted any future results. Thus, we must conclude the experiment and admit we have reached an impasse." He gave a quick nod as if he'd made a sound, irrefutable argument.

Amy refused to let him off the hook that easily. "You are now the one being illogical, Sheldon. Simply admit you were sexually aroused this afternoon, and there will be no need for us to continue this test."

He glared down at her. "Never."

She glared right back. "Then, the test continues. Proceed with applying the gel."

Emotions zipped across his face like a ball in a pinball machine. She tried to catch them all, but it was nearly impossible. The easiest to discern was also the most abundant. Panic. She'd back him into a proverbial corner, and there was no escape.

But, that didn't mean he didn't try.

He glanced down at his watch. "It's getting late. We should continue this tomorrow."

She eased closer. "Touch me, Sheldon."

"You should shower before we apply the gel. Otherwise, we'll just have to do it all over again."

She shrugged. "Then, we'll do it twice. I don't mind. Touch me."

Amy was nearly on top of him. She was so close she could smell sweat, talc, sunscreen, and the overall manly scent that was Sheldon. He didn't move back this time, but he retreated just the same.

"Amy …" he whimpered. His eyes closed. His head bowed. He cringed, as if waiting for her to hit him.

Amy stopped, unable to continue. It was evident what was going on here, and it made her sick to her stomach. Sheldon had reverted to survival mode. In his mind, this wasn't a logical debate anymore; this was a bully about to grind him into the ground. He couldn't fight her. He could only prepare to receive her blow and try to endure the ordeal.

Amy stumbled back, feeling like she'd been punched herself. She knew better than this. She knew how sensitive and fragile Sheldon was.

_Am I so desperate to prove I'm right? He was sexually aroused this afternoon. I know it. He knows it. I know he knows I know it. Does the fact become more accurate if he admits it aloud? What will be truly gained if, by forcing this, I lose him altogether?_

"I'm sorry."

Stunned, Sheldon's eyes shot up to meet hers. "You admit you're wrong?" he asked, confused.

"No." she said. She turned away, gathering up her purse and shrug. "I had no right to push you like this. Perhaps it would be better if we postponed this experiment for now. Our exhaustion from today is, no doubt, affecting our cognitive function. Goodnight, Sheldon."

She didn't give him a chance to respond before she was out the door. She returned to her room, devastated at what had just happened as well as her part in it. Amy collapsed across the bed and sobbed. She cried for how stupid she'd just been. She cried for the frustration she felt every day as Sheldon's girlfriend. She cried because, once more, she'd been rejected. And, most of all, she cried because she'd frightened Sheldon, which was something she'd never wanted to do.

She missed the first set of knocks on the adjoining door. But, she caught the second and third. Swiping at the tears still flooding her cheeks, she sat up on the bed. "What do you want, Sheldon?" she croaked.

His voice was muffled from the door, but she still understood him. "Please, let me in. I need to make sure you're all right."

"No," she answered, getting up from the bed and going up to the door. "I'm tired. We'll talk in the morning."

"You were crying. I heard you. Let me in."

"I'm fine," she lied. "It's just the sunburn. It's painful. I'm going to go take a shower now. That'll help."

"Amy—"

"I said 'no,' Sheldon. You can't fix this. Not now. Goodnight." And, with that, she turned away from the door before she went against her better judgment and opened it. If she let him in, she'd ache for him to hold her, to comfort her, to kiss her, to tell her he loved her—all things he wouldn't be able to do. Then, the rejection and self-loathing would begin again. She just couldn't take it. No more. Not now. It was simply too much.

— —

After a long Skype session with Penny and an even longer, cooler shower, Amy felt some semblance of her old self returning. While Penny's advice wasn't very helpful—she proposed slapping "Dr. Whack-a-doodle upside his head" and telling him to "get a clue"—talking to her best friend brought Amy a small measure of comfort. Being able to vent all of her emotions helped her feel calmer. Once this happened, logic and reason returned. And, while tonight's outcome still delivered a sting to her womanly ego, she was able to recognize that Sheldon hadn't really rejected her. He'd rejected the truth about himself because he wasn't willing, ready or able to accept it; not yet. She supposed it would be like getting angry at a three-year-old for not understanding multiplication or how to rhyme. Their little minds simply weren't developed enough to grasp those concepts.

Even as she made her peace with this, a traitorous thought niggled at the back of her mind.

_Sheldon is the epitome of stubbornness. What if he never accepts it? What if our physical relationship never includes coitus?_

Her instinct was to push this negativity away, to focus only on what could be if she just kept positive, kept planning, and kept pushing him forward. She'd done it so many times. But, not this time. This time, she allowed the question to flood her brain. _Will it be enough for me or will I be forced to break up with him?_

Amy loved Sheldon. She relished their times together. He was the first person she wanted to talk to in the morning and the last before she went to bed. She was fascinated by his perception of the world and spellbound by the pure functionality of his brain. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a man. He was intelligent, honorable, funny, ordered, hygienic, honest-to-a-fault, polite, and capable of great love—even if he usually only showed it to Meemaw. And, most of all, he was completely committed to her. So, as far as Amy was concerned, their relationship was pretty close to perfect.

_But, is that always going to be enough? _Once she allowed herself the ability to really contemplate this, the answer was remarkably obvious._ I love him. It's not perfect, but it is enough._

Being in a sexless relationship with Sheldon was still a hundred times better than being with anyone else. She loved Sheldon unconditionally and that meant being aware of and accepting his various flaws and loving him anyway. What's more, he loved her back. She knew this even if he never admitted it to her. It was all so clear now. She'd believed Meemaw earlier, but now she could see it for herself. Sheldon had done more changing for her than he'd ever done before. And, as much as he might gripe or complain about the changes, he still made them.

Sheldon feared germs and contamination. But, he battled against these fears to willingly hold her hand during various outings. Sheldon had never wanted the responsibility, fuss, or complications that came along with having a girlfriend. But, he'd swallowed his reservations and asked her to be his anyway. Sheldon led a heavily scheduled life in order to maintain some sense of stability in a world filled with chaos. But, he regularly altered his long-established routine to fit her into his life. In fact, he'd made great strides to not only integrate her, but to demonstrate just how important she was to him. He always made sure her "spot" beside him on his couch was available to her, he took care of her when she was ill, he'd agreed to participate in Valentine's Day even though he hated it, and even brought her with him to his family reunion.

_He loves me, and that's enough_. Sure, she wanted more. It was the human condition to never be satisfied, to always strive for perfection. But, in this case, she refused to continue pushing at him all the time trying to achieve it. She was going to merely accept Sheldon, his love, and whatever else he would willingly give her.

Wrapping a towel around herself as she got out of the shower, she padded out of the bathroom and over to her laptop. Amy clicked around until she pulled up the relationship trajectory chart and all the resulting research. She kept going on her self-appointed task until a question popped up on the screen.

"Are you sure you want to delete these files?"

She took a deep breath and pressed the mouse one more time. Then, with a last click, the recycle bin was emptied and all of her careful planning and research was gone.

Amy smiled, surprised at how relieved she felt. No more step-by-step plans in her relationship with Sheldon. From here on out, she was going to take things one day at a time, savoring time spent with her boyfriend. Maybe one day he would want more. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe they would marry. Maybe they would never be more than they were right now.

But, as much as Sheldon might not be able to recognize and accept the truth when it was staring him plain in the face, Amy did not have this problem. _He's my Sheldon, and he's enough. Just as he is._

— —

The shower made the sunburn feel better, but led to other problems. The first became apparent after she tried to get dressed. Her inflamed skin protested the second she tried to put on her long-sleeved, high-collared nightgown. As all of her nightgowns were of the same style and fabric, she pondered the problem for a moment before deciding to sleep in nothing but her panties. It wasn't as if anyone would know besides herself, and, logically, it was the only way she'd be comfortable enough to sleep.

Her decision made, she applied the aloe to her affected parts and climbed into bed. She watched a little television as she waited for the ointment to soak in. Once it had, she turned everything off, cranked up the air conditioner, and climbed beneath the covers. The feel of the cotton sheets slathering against her naked skin felt decadent and naughty. She lay there, trying to adjust the covers so the odd sensations would go away. The last thing she needed was to get aroused by bed clothes. She giggled at the absurdity of the concept and chocked the whole affair up to the overstimulation of a crazy day. Finally, she turned over. Minutes later, she was sound asleep.

— —

The first thing she became aware of was the screams. The second was the heavy weight holding her down. Then, she realized the weight was warm, moving, and human. Someone was straddling her. Her instinct was to fight, but her arms were pinned against her sides. She opened her mouth to scream, but realized the screams filling the room were already coming from her. A hand repeatedly stroked her hair. A mouth propped against her ear murmured the same three sentences over and over.

"Amy, you're OK. I've got you. I won't let anything harm you."

Just that fast, everything that was going on here became clear.

"Sheldon, I'm awake," she said.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice quaking in obvious concern.

"I'm fine now. I assume I had a night terror? I apologize if it frightened you."

Her hands were freed. His body shifted above her. The bedside lamp flicked on. She squinted at the brightness now flooding the previously dark room and looked up at him. Sheldon was a mess. His hair was standing on end like he'd just walked through a wind tunnel. His pajama top had lost a few buttons and was gaping open at the chest. _Where's his undershirt?_ Just as quickly, Amy wondered if she was to blame for his condition. _Great Caesar's ghost, what have I done to him?_ But, strangely enough, Sheldon didn't seem injured. If anything, his face was drawn with worry as his blue eyes flew over her face and body, as though checking to if he'd somehow hurt her.

"Sheldon," she said. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" He frowned. "You weren't even aware of what you were doing. Are you all right?"

She nodded. He sat up. He was still straddling her, but the bulk of his weight rested on his bent legs. He still looked shaken up. She wanted to apologize again, but, as that had only upset him more last time, she decided to ask questions instead.

"What happened?"

"I woke up to your screams. At first, I thought you were being attacked by an intruder. Then, I realized it was more likely to be one of your night terrors. I let myself into your room using the extra key to find you thrashing about and screaming in the bed. So, I held you down and stroked your head until you woke up."

"How did you know what to do?"

"Well, Penny mentioned it to me after we all went to the Institute of Interdisciplinary Studies' symposium a few years ago. Remember? You took her as your plus-one? In any case, I did some research on the condition. One of the books I read suggested speaking repetitiously to the affected person while using a calm, reassuring tone. Another said to hold them down while lightly stroking the head or brow. I decided to utilize both recommendations. I'm pleased to see they were successful."

She stared up at him, bewildered. "Why would you research this? You weren't even my boyfriend then."

He shrugged. "It is important to be as prepared as one can for any eventuality. It was possible, even back then, that you and I might one day end up sleeping in a bed together. Thus, I accepted I would need to be ready to handle this situation."

Amy's heart melted in her chest. He'd been thinking about them being together, even back then? She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the rush of emotion his words were causing.

"Amy, what's happening?" He leaned down and reached over to brush her hair back from her face. "Have I frightened you somehow? You were crying before. Is this about that? I read night terrors can be caused by an overabundance of stress, a fever, or a lack of quality sleep. Is this some kind of residual aftershock?"

She opened her eyes to find his anxious face mere centimeters from her own. Without a thought, she reached up to cup his jaw. "You're a good man, Sheldon Cooper," she said.

Unable to stop herself, she ran her thumb over his plump bottom lip. His eyes darkened. His gaze dropped to her mouth. "I don't feel like a good man. I feel—I want—" His breath hitched and his body shuddered as her thumb rubbed over his lip again.

"Amy," he groaned and kissed her.

His mouth was firm and tight as it crushed hers. The intensity of his kiss scared her, but it didn't stop her from throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When he kept desperately pressing against her instead of moving his lips, she realized he didn't know what to do. So, she brought one hand back down to cup his jaw and urged him to move his head back slightly. When she had room, she relaxed her lips and rubbed them gently against his, kissing him over and over again. She expected him to jolt back, repelled by the slight amount of her saliva that was lubricating his mouth. But, he didn't. Instead, he proved a quick learner. He imitated her actions until they were moving their mouths against each other in a hurried rhythm. Her hand went back around his neck as she tugged him close. Her tongue ran along the seam of his lips and, when he turned his head to kiss her, she pushed her tongue forward through the slight opening that had developed. He moaned at her invasion. Whether it was from surprise, revulsion, or lust, she wasn't sure. She only knew that she had to keep kissing him or she would surely die.

Still imitating, his tongue probed hers, rubbing awkwardly at first. The longer the kiss continued, the nimbler his movements became until he was kissing her with the precision of someone far more experienced. Her hands fell from around his neck, running down his shoulders and clavicle until they slipped past the gaping pajama top to caress his thin torso and around to his back.

His body surged against her, grinding them both further into the bed. She moaned, opening her mouth to encourage his tongue to enter. Tentatively at first, he glided it past her lips and began the delicate task of exploring the cavern of her mouth.

"Oh, God. Amy," he gasped as he broke away to press furious kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Meanwhile, his hands left her face to explore, stroking the bare expanse of her skin available to him, down her arms and over her belly.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and arched against him. He settled into her pelvic embrace, kissing his way across her collar bone. It was as his hands moved upward to cup her breasts that they both stilled. Her, because she was shocked by the intimacy of his touch and, him, because of the enormity of something he'd apparently just realized.

"Amy Farrah Fowler," he rasped, keeping his gaze firmly on her face as if he were afraid to look down, "are you naked?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"The sunburn made it too uncomfortable for me to wear my nightgown. For the record, I am wearing panties."

He gulped. "So, right now, my hands are holding … your … bare …"

"Breasts?" she supplied. "Indeed they are."

He immediately released his grip on her and squeezed his eyes shut. "Breasts … Homo Novus … Damn sexual arousal," he muttered with a low moan before his face collapsed into the hollow of her neck. "I swear, you're going to be the death of me, woman."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_"This may have been a mistake."__  
__**Rajesh Koothrappali (TBBT Season 6)**__  
__"The Egg Salad Equivalency"_

_Typical_. _The second I decide not to push for a physical relationship with my boyfriend, he delivers a kiss worthy of an epic poem._

Amy's musings were interrupted when the man in question planted his hands on either side of her head and hoisted himself up to look down at her. His frown was not a good sign. Amy bit her lip, unsure what would happen now. Would he panic? Run away? Kiss her again? At this point, she honestly wasn't sure what to expect.

Instead of doing any of that, his blue eyes moved languidly over her as if he were visually cataloging the results of an experiment. When this mental tally was done, his face adopted an expression of wonder and confusion as he murmured, "Fascinating."

Amy automatically grinned and leaned up to kiss him again. This simple action seemed to break the bubble of calm surrounding Sheldon because he dodged her searching lips. "We can't—_I_ can't …"

She fell back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

Sheldon tried to remove himself from the bed, but couldn't seem to accomplish the task.

"Amy," he said, "I'm trapped. Your legs are—"

That was when she realized her legs were still firmly locked around his hips. She released him. "Sorry," she repeated with a blush.

Sheldon awkwardly scrambled off of her and stumbled across the room. He looked dazed and disoriented. His hair was still mussed, his face was flushed, and his black and white checked pajama shirt was now button-less and flapping open around him. Amy thought he looked like a sexy penguin, but she wisely kept that opinion to herself.

She sat up in bed, holding the sheet modestly against her. Her head was still swimming from all that had just occurred. She gazed over at Sheldon again, admiring the vast amount of his pale, thin chest now visible. _Did I do that to his shirt? I don't remember, but, then again, I was in quite a rush._ She couldn't help smiling to herself as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Stop! If you value my sanity at all, you will remain where you are. I beg you," Sheldon declared, pressing himself against the far wall. "I need some time to collect myself, and I cannot do that if your appealing bosoms are available for my view."

Amy jolted and glanced down to make sure she was adequately covered. She fought against the girly glee ringing in her head—_He thinks my bosoms are appealing!—_and tried to focus on soothing her oversensitive, mysophobic boyfriend, who seemed on the edge of panic. She started with logic and reason. After all, it had worked many times before. "I will remain right here. But, I would remind you that you've seen my bosoms before, Sheldon. They did not bother you then. Logically, they should not bother you now."

He looked appalled. "That was different. You were sick. I had to help you bathe. What do you take me for, some kind of lecher?"

"Of course not," she said, adjusting the sheet around her as she sought to hastily reassure him. "You've always been a gentleman in your dealings with me. Your mother would be proud."

The second the word "mother" left her lips, Sheldon snapped, "Amy, thirty seconds ago I was pawing you like an animal in heat. Do you really think my mother is going to be proud of that?"

She grimaced that she'd inadvertently made an already bad situation worse. Apparently, it was bad form to bring up one's boyfriend's mother when discussing physical intimacy with said boyfriend. _Who would have thought?_ She made a mental note to request more information on this subject from Penny as soon as they returned to Pasadena. No doubt, her beautiful, buxom, and sexually adventurous bestie knew all the ends and outs of the apparent minefield that was post-second base, pre-coital discussions.

As Amy wasn't sure what to say, she kept silent, hoping a little quiet time would allow Sheldon to sufficiently calm himself. But, as time went on, he grew worse. For example, he refused to even look in her direction. Then, there was his breathing. His shallow, little pants had intensified to sets of struggling wheezes and gasps. Amy knew if she didn't do something soon, he was going to launch into a full panic attack. "Sheldon, please let me help you. I'll get dressed and then we can talk through this. I won't touch you. I promise."

"No," he yelled, holding a hand up to ward her off. "I can't talk to you—not about this. I need to be alone … to think … I don't understand … I need Leonard."

She glanced at the bedside clock. "It's two in the morning back in Pasadena. Leonard is sleeping. Talk to me. I may be your girlfriend, but I'm your friend first and foremost."

He jerked his head back and forth in a swift denial. "No. Not now. I can't look at you without remembering what we just did… and then I'll want to … I have always treasured my eidetic memory, but now I realize it's a curse of epic proportions." He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "This isn't how Dr. Sheldon Cooper acts. This isn't how Dr. Sheldon Cooper acts. This isn't how Dr. Sheldon Cooper acts," he chanted to himself.

"Sheldon, please—"

"No! I'm above all of these kinds of feelings. What have you done to me, woman?"

"The same thing you've done to me."

Those seven words were all it took to bring the wheezing, groaning, and panic to a screeching halt. Sheldon's head popped up as he frowned at her. "What? What have I ever done to you?"

Amy took a deep breath and gathered her courage. It was time to tell him the truth. "Most of what you're feeling right now I have been dealing with for the past three years. When we met, Sheldon, the thought of having a physical relationship with anyone was abhorrent to me."

"I remember. It was how I knew immediately that you and I would be friends," he replied.

She nodded. "I know. I was relieved to have the pressure of that burden off of me. Moreover, I was vastly stimulated by our conversations. You were the first person I could completely be myself with without fear of recrimination, judgment, or constant social misunderstandings. I enjoyed the routine, structure, and peripheries of our various interactions. Likewise, I relished our mutual passion for science, cleanliness and order."

"As did I. Things were so perfect then," he said. "But, I still don't understand how you think I did anything to you."

"I'm getting to that. I didn't notice anything at first. But, as time went on, things started to change. The little quirks and tics you have that make everyone else want to run over you with their cars fascinated me. Everything you did fascinated me. I found myself growing strangely excited whenever I knew I would see you or talk to you. I thought it was simply because I hadn't ever had a true friend before. But, that wasn't it.

"Before I knew it, I would think of you at odd times. While I loaded the dishwasher, brushing my teeth at night, or—worse—at work. I'd be slicing into a brain and see your smile instead of a tumor. I didn't know how to handle it. Then, the longer I knew you, the more I began to feel these inexplicable yearnings inside of me."

He gulped. "Y-y-yearnings?"

"Yes. To touch you. To have you touch me. It didn't really matter how the touch occurred … just that it did. I became a woman obsessed. It didn't matter how illogical or absurd it was to want this or how I knew you'd be unwilling to even hold my hand. I still wanted it. No doubt," she said, feeling her cheeks heat into another blush, "that's why I kissed you while drunk that one night.

"When you suggested rebooting our friendship the next morning, I agreed, relieved that my actions hadn't cost me everything. I told myself that I should be grateful just to have your friendship—and I was. Then, Stuart asked me out. I agreed because I was curious to see if the yearnings I had for you would somehow transfer to him."

"And did they?" he asked with a small frown.

"No. But, before I could decide how to proceed, you showed up and asked me to be your girlfriend. I was overjoyed. But, in the end, it only made everything worse. I found that I wasn't as satisfied as I'd first thought. I wanted more. It had become almost an addiction to me. Hand holding, cuddling, kissing … it's all wonderful. But, I wanted more. So much more. I wanted it all … with you, Sheldon."

Amy couldn't believe she was telling him all of this. She'd never told anyone before, but she couldn't stop herself. Maybe, if he understood the depths of her struggles, he would know he wasn't alone in this. Sheldon didn't reply for a long time. He seemed to intent on trying to absorb everything she'd said.

Then, so quietly she wasn't sure she actually heard him, he murmured, "I've thought about you at work before. Your hair, the dandruff shampoo you use and how lovely it smells, the way the green in your eyes brightens when you laugh …" He groaned. "This is madness, Amy."

_No, it's love_, she wanted to say. But, she didn't think he could handle that right now. And, as thrilled as she was to know he'd been suffering for her as she'd been for him—even thinking about her at work—it was more important to have him calm right now.

"We don't have to do anything, Sheldon. Coitus, kissing—we can forget all of it. We can reboot if that's what you want. We can go back to the way we were before all of this. I just want to be with you. That's all that matters."

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I've contemplated coitus with you, Amy. I even thought if I could plan it all out into a series of choreographed steps—like a waltz or a samba—I could find a way to overcome my reservations in order to … But I never ever thought it would be like this. I never knew I would feel so … consumed and—" He broke off with a furious shake of his head as if he were trying to push off bad thoughts. "I can't think about this with you here. I have to return to my room now. I need to be alone."

"But, Sheldon—"

"No, Amy," he screeched, startling them both. "I'm going. Now."

She shrugged, trying to cover how hurt she was. "Of course. It's late and we both have a lot to do tomorrow. We'll talk after you've had some time to process. Just know that I'm here for you, Sheldon."

He nodded and, hugging his shirt closed around him, fled the room without another word.

— —

Going back to sleep was impossible. Amy's mind was too full bouncing back and forth between the kiss and everything that had happened after. That, and she couldn't stop worrying about Sheldon. _What is he doing now? Is he even going to speak to me again?_

She took another shower to have something to do besides worry. She also did it to rid herself of the residual sensation of his mouth tantalizingly kissing across her skin, but it didn't help. She could still feel it, echoing tauntingly as she moved around her room.

She applied the aloe a final time and, after it soaked it, was able to pull on a lavender button-up shirt, pale blue skirt and striped sweater. There was some slight irritation from her sunburn, but nothing she couldn't handle. By dawn, she was dressed, packed, and ready to go. She spent the intervening hours before breakfast checking emails and desperately hoping the best relationship she'd ever hadn't been ruined by lust.

Every now and again, she crept over to the adjoining door and pressed her ear against it, straining to hear sounds coming from Sheldon's room, but there were none. She thought she heard a shower running, but couldn't be sure. Most of all, she just hoped he'd been able to get some rest. Sleep would hopefully calm him enough for a rational discussion.

As the clock pushed to seven, she started to fret about breakfast. Would Sheldon be able to act as though nothing was wrong in front of his mother and grandmother? What would she or he say if they were questioned? Did they need to concoct some kind of cover story? What if he didn't come out at all? What would she say or do then?

However, just as she was on the verge of panic herself, Sheldon's trademark knocks sounded at the door. She sighed in relief, never so happy to hear them in her life. Rushing to the door, she pulled it open with a smile.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he replied.

A few hours made a world of difference in Sheldon. His hair was neatly combed, his face was free of tics, his breathing was calm, and he was dressed in his favorite red Flash t-shirt, yellow undershirt and pale blue pants. But, as normal as he looked, tension was evident in his eyes and in the clench of his jaw.

"Sheldon, I—"

He looked down at his watch. "We're on a tight schedule this morning. Leave your luggage here. We'll return for it after breakfast. Then, we can check out and head to the airport."

She shouldn't have been jarred by his abrupt, matter-of-fact tone, but she was. He hadn't been this detached since they'd first met. _What does it mean? Is he going to break up with me?_

"Sheldon, I think we should—"

He pivoted and began walking to the elevator as if she hadn't spoken. When she broke off, he turned and looked at her. "Are you coming?" he asked.

She followed him to the elevator, more insecure than she'd ever been in her life. _Oh my God, what have I done to him? _At the same time, she began to get angry._ It's not as if I made him kiss me. _

Once they were safely ensconced in the elevator and the lobby button had been selected, she confronted him. "Sheldon, I know you're feeling overwhelmed, but you can't just shut me out. We have to talk about this. Logically, we have to spend the rest of the day together. You can't avoid me. I know you want to, but you can't."

He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily through his nose. "What I want is some time to think, but that is not a luxury either of us have. We must eat breakfast with my family in exactly eleven minutes, and I have no interest in discussing that blight on my memory with them."

He opened his eyes, but averted them away from her. Amy wanted to demand to know the current status of their relationship, but reason told her pushing Sheldon any further right now was fruitless and would only make this worse. _And didn't I agree not to push him?_ _Patience and a calm demeanor are the only ways to win this particular race._

So, she shoved her insecurities and worries aside and forced a smile. "I propose we agree to quarantine what happened last night."

Sheldon asked, "Quarantine? Like a virus?"

As he was actually looking at her, Amy took this as progress and pressed forward. "Exactly. We will take all of our feelings, memories and so on from last night and quarantine them until we return to Pasadena. Then, when you are ready, we will talk."

He took a few minutes to consider this. "Really?"

"Indeed. If you like, we can spend the plane ride discussing the meteorite that went down in Russia and playing a few rounds of a new game I've devised. I'll give you a hint. It involves prime numbers and inverse tangents."

She'd assumed he would immediately relax and try to guess the game. But, as was becoming common lately, Sheldon did something unexpected.

"And you, Amy? You would truly be all right postponing this unbearable discussion?"

She sighed. "If it is what it takes to make you feel secure and get through the day, Sheldon, yes."

His eyes roved over her again similar to the way he'd done when they were in bed together. Again, Amy wasn't sure what that meant. But, once his cataloging was done, he wore the same expression he'd worn last night: Wonder and confusion.

Finally, with a nod, he said, "That would be acceptable. Thank you." He smiled.

And, like that, the majority of her anxiety dissipated. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she relished the relief nonetheless. "You're welcome." She smiled back.

The elevator dinged and they exited, making their way over to the diner in companionable silence. They'd secured a table at the edge of the restaurant just as Sheldon's phone rang. As the noise level from the patrons and staff was too loud for him to be able to hear what the caller was saying, he excused himself to go outside. Amy waved down a waitress and ordered a coffee for herself and an orange juice for Sheldon. Then, opening the menu, she began to peruse the selections.

The three taps on the window surprised her. She glanced over to see Sheldon beginning his second series of knocks. It was his shattered expression that had her scrambling out of the booth and running to meet him outside. Innately, she knew what it meant. She would have recognized it anywhere. It was the same expression her mother had worn when she'd told Amy that her father was dead.

So, as she exited the diner and raced around the corner to confront her boyfriend, the question bursting from her wasn't "What happened?" or "Are you all right?". No, it was something far more direct.

"Who is it?"

Sheldon didn't hesitate to answer. "Meemaw."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

_"Oh, and one more thing; it's on, bitch."__  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 1)**__  
__"The Bat Jar Conjecture"_

_No. Not her. Not now._

Amy gripped the steering wheel of the rental car tighter and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Red lights, speed limits, and stop signs ceased to have any relevance. She only knew that she had to get Sheldon to his mother's house as soon as possible. Meemaw was dead. Beyond that fact, there was no logic or reason anymore. There was only this incessant urge to drive faster.

Sheldon didn't complain about her lack of adherence to traffic laws. In fact, he said nothing at all. He just sat there with his hands clenched tightly in his lap. His seatbelt was strained to the breaking point as he perched on the very edge of the seat, as if this simple action would somehow get him there quicker.

She took the last corner with a screech of the wheels, pealed into the driveway, and slammed on the brakes. Before she could even put the car in park, Sheldon was out the door and running hell-bent-for-leather for the house as if his mere presence would somehow bring his beloved grandmother back to life.

Shock helped her cope. Like a protective bubble, it kept the worst of the grief at bay so she could think. She was relieved by its presence. But, like a nagging insect, the reality that Meemaw was gone from this world wouldn't completely go away. It was there on the outer edges, tauntingly waiting to consume her. Feeling like she needed to keep ahead of it, she parked the car and got out. After shutting the door Sheldon had left open in haste, she went inside. Missy was waiting by the door. Amy opened her mouth to greet her, but was prevented from doing so as Sheldon's sister sobbingly threw herself into Amy's arms.

The hug was awkward both because Missy was so much taller than her and because Amy had so many questions she wanted answered. Social protocol, however, dictated that consoling someone during the time of grief took precedence. So, she returned the hug, clumsily patting the weeping woman's back while she waited for her to cease her tears. The longer Missy cried, the more uncomfortable Amy became. Her protective shock bubble felt like it was thinning. _No, not now. Stay strong for Sheldon. This is _his_ grandmother; not yours. If you fall apart, what will become of him?_ Once Missy pulled back, Amy couldn't stay silent any longer. She had to know the answers to the questions she'd been too scared to ask Sheldon in the car.

"What happened?"

Missy pulled back, wiping at the tears on her face. "The paramedics think it was a heart attack, but they won't know for sure until the coroner gets here. I found her this morning. It was awful. I thought she was still asleep, but she … wasn't." She shook her head as if to rid herself of the memory. "Meemaw was already gone, but Mom made me call the ambulance anyway. I told her it was too late, but she just kept screaming at me to call them." Missy sniffed as more tears threatened. "Meemaw was fine last night. I kissed her goodnight, and she was fine. I don't understand how this could have happened. I just don't understand."

She slumped against her again as if the very act of talking was too much. Amy resumed patting her back. Her mind scrambled to find words of comfort even though her own grief told her there was no such thing. "Meemaw was in her eighties. It is to be expected. After all, the human heart isn't capable of beating forever."

Missy popped back up, seeming startled by Amy's clinical tone. Then, just as Amy was about to apologize, the blue-eyed beauty gave a wry laugh. "That sounds like some crap Shelly would say. You two really are made for each other."

"Where is he?"

"Back in the room with Meemaw. I told him he didn't want to see her like that, but you know how stubborn he is."

"The body is still here?" _Sheldon is back there with his grandmother's corpse? What was he thinking? He can't handle that kind of trauma. I have to get to him._

"Yes," Missy said, hugging her again. "The paramedics couldn't take her because she'd already passed. Someone from the coroner's office has to come pronounce her dead before anyone can move her. Isn't that the freakiest thing? Mom won't leave her, though. I had to come out. I couldn't stand it another second."

Amy nodded and tried unsuccessfully to extricate herself from what was quickly becoming Missy's chokehold. "I have to go to Sheldon. Have you called Riley?"

Missy finally released her to step back in alarm,. "Lord, no! Why would I? We barely know each other."

Amy knew she didn't have time to get into that particular issue. "Excuse me. I must see about Sheldon." She rushed past Missy through the dining room and into the back bedroom. Amy stopped outside the open door and took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for what she was about to see. This wasn't a cadaver to be dissected and studied. This was Meemaw, someone she'd loved.

_Be strong. Sheldon needs you_, she reminded herself.

Her first sight of Meemaw nearly crumbled her where she stood. The dear woman reposed peacefully on her bed, the covers pulled up her chest. No matter what Missy had said, Meemaw didn't look asleep. No, her lively soul, the energy of her life, or the little bit of magic that even science didn't have a correct term for was gone forever, leaving behind an inanimate husk of what once was.

Mary sat at the end of the bed, rubbing her mother's knee as she hummed _Amazing Grace_. Tears coursed down her face, but she never ceased her ministrations or even appeared to notice Amy at all. Sheldon was on his knees at the side of the bed. He'd taken his grandmother's hand in his and had placed it lovingly up against his face to cup his cheek.

This heartbreaking image was too much. Like a grenade, the bubble around her exploded. A rogue tear escaped. She wiped away the damning evidence of her weakness and tried to swallow the hard lump forming in her throat.

Pressing his face into Meemaw's hand, Sheldon rocked back and forth on his knees, almost as if he were trying to soak up whatever residual comfort she might have left behind. He didn't cry. In fact, he made no sound at all. He just rocked. Then, after what seemed like hours, he turned his head and placed a delicate kiss on Meemaw's palm before gently returning it to lie atop her chest. He reached up and pushed a few gray tendrils of hair away from her face before leaning down to press another kiss on her wrinkled forehead.

"I love you, Meemaw," he murmured. "Your moon pie has always loved you."

The tears wouldn't stop now. Amy tried, but it was like holding off a flood with a small bag of sand. Maybe if Sheldon's love for Meemaw and his grief at her loss weren't so palpable and raw in front of her. Maybe if she hadn't love Meemaw so much. Maybe if Meemaw hadn't been so wonderful. Maybe if Mary would stop humming that hauntingly sad song. Maybe then, she might have been able to better handle this. But, all the maybes in the world couldn't save her now. Amy bit back the sob at her throat and furiously wiped at tears that just wouldn't seem to end.

She couldn't remain here. What if Sheldon saw her like this? She had to get out so she could pull herself together. Stepping back outside, she closed the door behind her and leaned against the wood. _Get a hold on yourself, Fowler_. _This is about Sheldon, not you. Be strong. _Please_, be strong._

She washed and dried her face in the bathroom and went back into the living room, intent on finding some tissues to keep in her pocket. Instead, she found George, who'd apparently just showed up, crying in his sister's arms.

"Not Meemaw. Please not her," he exclaimed. "How could this happen? I just talked to her last night. She chewed me out for getting drunk. Even after Randy came to get me, she made me promise to drive her and Mom to church. We're supposed to go to church. She can't be gone. She just can't be gone." Then, as if a switch flipped, he jerked back from her, suddenly furious. "Why didn't anyone call me? How could y'all not call me?"

"I tried. It went to voicemail," Missy explained.

"That's bullshit. My phone was on. I didn't get a call. Is this because I was with Randy? I know Mom hates him and didn't want me to leave last night, but punishing me like this is low. How could she not call me?"

"Stop being paranoid, Georgie. Mom tried to call you. So did I. Your phone was off. I didn't want to leave a message because I couldn't stop crying and I figured you'd be here soon enough anyway."

George scoffed. "Yeah, right. I bet you called Shelly, though, huh? God knows, we gotta call Meemaw's favorite first, don't we? Heaven forbid if the great California Einstein isn't the first to know everything and—"

Before anyone could tell what was going on, George was slammed against the living room wall by Sheldon. George struggled against his brother's grasp, but it was useless. Sheldon held him immobile, one arm flattened across the older man's throat. "Keep talking," he threatened, "and I'll crush your windpipe like a twig."

Amy's eyes went wide. She'd never seen Sheldon like this.

"Shelly," Missy said. "Put him down. He didn't mean any of it. You know how he is."

"Yeah," Sheldon snapped, "I know how he is. He's a repugnant drunkard who doesn't know when to shut up."

George sneered, apparently unconcerned by his younger brother's abnormal flash of temper. "You think you're so smart, don't you, Know-It-All? Gotta use big words so everyone can see what a big shot you are. Well, I might not be as smart as you, but at least I didn't abandon my family to go live in California!"

Sheldon slammed him against the wall again. "No, George," he retorted, "you stayed here and made an ass out of yourself. How many times has Mom had to pay your rent? How many times has she had to bail you out of jail for DUI? How many times have Mom and Meemaw had to pick you up off the ground and put you to bed when you've had too much? You knew Meemaw's heart wasn't strong. But, did you care? No. You still showed up here last night smelling like a distillery. Maybe if you'd done a little 'abandoning' of your own, our grandmother would still be alive!"

"Sheldon, put him down."

Everyone turned the second Mary spoke. Sheldon immediately released his brother and took a few steps back.

"You boys will stop this now. Meemaw would be ashamed to see you acting this way. Do you hear me? The pastor is on his way over, and I will have peace in this house—so help me, God. And the next person who cusses is going to get their mouths washed out with Dawn. Just see if I don't. If you don't have anything good to say to each other, then don't say anything at all. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," the boys chorused, heads pointed at the ground.

"Missy," Mary said, "call all the Coopers and let them know about Meemaw. Start with Granddaddy and work your way down. I've already told my siblings, but I just don't have the strength to speak to anyone else. But make them stay clear of the house until tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Missy said.

Like a general giving out marching orders, Mary turned to her oldest. "George Jr., I don't know when the coroner is going to get here or when they'll let the funeral home come get her, but this isn't a sideshow. I won't let anyone see my mama like this. I don't care who shows up or what excuse they have. You make sure no one gets past you but immediate family. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

Finally, she faced her youngest son, putting an arm out to touch his shoulder. "Sheldon, baby, I know you're hurting right now. We all are, but I'm going to need you to call the funeral home and make arrangements for them to come get her. It's Morrison's. Same one that handled your daddy. All right?"

He nodded, but said nothing.

"Now," Mary said, taking a ragged breath. "I'm going back in there to spend a few more minutes with my mama. I better not hear anything else to make me come out here or I swear to God I'll take the strap to all of you. Now, when Reverend Caldwell shows up, y'all send him on back."

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared around the corner. In the wake of her absence, the tension in the room grew as thick as a fog. George adjusted the collar of his shirt and smoothed back his wild hair, eyeing Sheldon as if he were a bug to be squashed.

"This isn't over. Not by a long shot," he threatened. "As soon as this is done, you and I are gonna dance, _Moon Pie_."

"Why wait?" Sheldon asked, punching his brother in the face.

George went down like a stone. Missy and Amy screamed, but Sheldon merely stepped over his brother's prone body and walked out the front door without a backwards glance. They watched him go, slack-jawed. Amy moved to follow him, but Missy held her back.

"Give him a few minutes to calm down. Cooper men have fierce tempers. I thought that particular trait had bypassed Shelly, but I guess not," Missy said with a rueful shake of her head.

They worked together to get a still-unconscious George onto the couch. Missy fetched a rag and a bowl of cool water. Dipping the cloth in the water and wringing it out, she laid it across his temple. From the swelling over his right eye, he was going to have quite the shiner. It took a few more minutes, but he finally came around. Of course, the second he had his wits about him, he wanted to go after Sheldon, but Missy stopped him.

"That mouth of yours already got you one black eye today. You want a matched set?"

"It's only 'cause Shelly sucker-punched me. I'll kick his ass. He never could take me as a kid," George argued.

Missy rewet the rag and pressed it against his bruised face, causing him to wince. "He ain't a kid anymore, Georgie. The quicker you realize that, the better off you'll be. Leave him alone. Besides, you know how close he was to Meemaw. They were two peas in a pod from the second he first drew breath. How many times have you heard Mom say that?"

"Meemaw loved us, too," he whined.

"Of course she did. She loved everyone. But, just like I was Dad's favorite and you were Pop-Pop's favorite, Sheldon was Meemaw's. It wasn't his choice. It just was. Like him being so smart. He's just playing the hand he's been dealt—same as us. Stop hating Shelly for things he has no control over."

George sighed, apparently realizing his sister was right. "He's still a know-it-all," he grumbled.

"And you're still an alcoholic," Amy pointed out, unable to stay quiet any longer.

Both Missy and George stared up at her in surprise.

Amy took advantage of their silence. "Hear me when I tell you this, George. Get help, or you're going to be as dead as your father. Then, this family will be dealing with two tragedies. Is that what you really want?"

She didn't wait for his answer. Instead, she went to find Sheldon. He'd had more than enough time to calm down. She needed to make sure he was all right. When she made it outside, though, she didn't see him. She walked around the back of the house, assuming he would be sitting on the back porch. But, he wasn't there either. Twenty minutes of searching, and one thing became perfectly clear.

Sheldon was gone.

**A/N: Thirty-two Kleenex and a half a roll of toilet paper. That is what this chapter has cost me in tears. I know you're all heartbroken about this. ****SO AM I****—and I have known this was coming since before I wrote the first word of this story. I haven't cried this much over a fictional character since Dumbledore died **_**in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince**_**. But, like that death, this one was inevitable. Everything happens for a reason, people. Just remember that. In the meantime, I'm off the grocery store to pick up more Kleenex. I'm gonna need it.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

_"I hope you don't take what I'm about to do as a comment on what we just did."__  
__**Amy Farrah Fowler (TBBT Season 4)**__  
__"The Agreement Dissection"_

Never in her life had Amy been more thankful for Sheldon's overzealous, safety-conscious nature. She pulled the plastic key card from her purse and slipped it into his motel room door lock. After thirty minutes of searching every side street in Mary Cooper's neighborhood, this was the last place she could think to look for him. If he wasn't here, she didn't know where else he could be.

When the green light flashed on the lock, she pulled down the knob and stepped inside. The early-afternoon light pooling in from the windows cast an ethereal glow about the room, but her eyes sought only one target and he was curled up in the very middle of the bed.

_Thank God._

The door_ thunked_ closed behind her, but Sheldon didn't move. His back was to her; so Amy wasn't sure if he was sleeping. If he was, she wasn't sure what she would do. She only knew she couldn't be away from him right now. He needed her. She pulled out her cell, sending a quick text to Missy letting her know he'd been found at the motel and that she would check in later.

Putting the phone away in her purse, she edged nearer the bed, softly calling his name. He didn't stir. Coming around the end, she came in full view of his face. Her breath caught at the agony etched into his features. The faint shadows in the room couldn't hide his torment. Her heart echoed that torment in response.

Amy tossed her purse and sweater onto a nearby chair and approached the bed. "Sheldon, it's me," she said.

With one, quick motion, her boyfriend flipped over on the bed, presenting his back again. His meaning was as clear as if he'd yelled it. He wanted to be alone. Amy knew that logically, but she wasn't running on logic right now. No, this was pure instinct, an instinct older and more primal than any she had ever studied. This instinct had her climbing into bed with him, spooning her body with his, and, before he could protest or pull away, wrapping one arm around his waist. Sheldon tensed beneath her touch, but that didn't stop her. If anything, she held him harder, pressing herself against him and slipping her free hand between him and the bed so she could lock her hands across his upper torso. Amy positioned her chin in the natural basin between his neck and shoulder.

His posture was as unforgiving as a concrete column. Gently at first, she began to rock back and forth much like he'd done earlier. The light, feminine hum of an almost-forgotten lullaby wafted from her throat like a breeze. The next few minutes passed in just this manner. Amy holding him, comforting him, singing to him. Somewhere along the way, the tension left Sheldon until he was rocking along with her. But, before she could be relieved by this development, she heard it. A loud gasp followed by the feral, keening moan of a wounded animal. A heavy shudder racked him. Sheldon curled forward, as though seeking to escape. Amy fought to maintain her hold as wet drops pelted her hands.

Sheldon was crying.

Amy rocked harder, tightening her grasp on him until she felt like her hands might break from the strain. Still, she soldiered on. The lullaby changed to a chant that she repeated with the devotion and certainty of a priest during mass. "It'll be OK. It'll be OK. It'll be OK."

The cries turned to sobs. He jerked and shuddered under her hold, but she didn't let up. No, she rode the storm like a rodeo cowboy on a wild bull. She wasn't sure how much time passed like this. Amy only knew that one minute he was weeping and the next he wasn't. She wasn't even aware that he'd stopped at first. It was the touch of his hand enveloping hers that caught her attention. As always, his fingers were warm against her cold ones.

"Amy?" he asked, his voice thick.

"Yes, Sheldon?"

"I need to wash my face."

"Are you sure?"

He inhaled a shuddering breath. "Yes. I'm fine. I promise. You can let me go now. "

It took a little while to get her stiffened fingers to obey her commands. But, soon, he was free of her, slipping from the bed, and padding into the bathroom. Amy remained where she lay, trying to coax blood into revisiting to her fingers by flexing them back and forth. The light flicking on in the bathroom alerted her to the fact that the shadows in the room had multiplied since she'd first arrived. The hiss of the sink running seemed to echo loudly in the room. Amy crooked her head to read the clock on the other side of the bed. It was after one in the afternoon.

She reached behind her to flick on the lamp, squinting at the brightness of the light. She had no doubt that, when Sheldon came back, he would be embarrassed by his display as well as the cuddling they'd just done. Amy wasn't looking forward to the awkwardness. Moreover, she knew that what would follow the awkwardness was his insistence that she return to her own room for the evening. She didn't want to leave him. She didn't care what he said. His Meemaw was dead, a woman he revered above all others. He wasn't fine and the last thing he needed was to be alone.

She heard his phone ring. It was probably his mother or his sister, checking to see if he was alright. He hadn't answered when they'd tried to call him earlier, but he answered now and spoke in tones too low for her to decipher. She took that as a good sign. If he was able to talk to them, perhaps he was feeling better. Still, she couldn't be sure.

Before Amy could decide how to best convince Sheldon to allow her to stay here for the rest of the evening, he came out of the bathroom. Without speaking, he climbed back onto his spot on the bed, placing himself parallel to her with only a strip of space between them. He faced her, his arms tucked in around him as to not accidentally touch her.

Yet, as he had gotten back into bed with her and hadn't asked her to leave yet, Amy decided she would take it. She noted the swelling around his eyes that signified his misery as well as the ruddiness in his cheeks. Their eyes met and held. She saw a wealth of emotion in his blue orbs. There was so much there, it was like he was naked in front of her. On more than one occasion, she'd thought there was an undiscovered world behind those eyes. Now, she reconsidered that it might instead be an entire universe. The intimacy of his gaze scared her, but she didn't look away. If anything, she gave him everything she had in return.

She smiled; a small comforting gesture. He returned the smile and released a long, slow, shaky breath. Amy wanted to touch him, to hug him to her and never let go, but she knew she wouldn't be welcome this time. More importantly, she didn't want to risk destroying this fragile intimacy that had developed between them. Amy didn't even have a place for it on her chart—when she'd had a chart, that is. And, how could she? She hadn't known a feeling like this even existed.

"Sheldon—"

She broke off when he lifted his hand and grazed the back his knuckles down her cheek. Amy forgot to breathe. He jerked his hand back, as though he'd burned it. She looked away, trying to shelter herself from the rejection that was coming. Whatever it was that had spurred him to touch her was going to go away and be replaced with the old Sheldon, the frightened Sheldon. He was going to make her leave. She held in her sadness and disappointment. It didn't matter now. This wasn't about her. He'd lost his grandmother. He was in mourning. She was his girlfriend. It was her duty to keep him calm and comforted, even if that meant leaving if he requested it. Amy inhaled with purpose and raised her eyes to meet his, ready for whatever he would say or do next.

"Amy, would you …"

His voice cracked with emotion. Her heart clenched in response. Amy couldn't stand this. It was taking everything she had not to touch him, not to hold him until his desolation was gone. But, she didn't move. She simply waited, her eyes never leaving his.

He inhaled, seeming to gather his courage. "Do you remember, so long ago, when you were upset because Bernadette and Penny went wedding shopping without you?"

She frowned. Indeed, she did remember. It was the night she'd made Sheldon cuddle with her. Why he would bring it up now, she had no idea.

"What about it?"

"Do you think … that is … would you mind terribly if … we … cuddled today?"

Relief and happiness engulfed her. "Yes, of course. Come here." She held out her arms in welcome and he slid into her embrace without another word. It occurred to her that this cuddle session was a lot less awkward than their first attempt. _But_, she considered, _practice makes perfect in so many areas. Is this really any different?_

He snuggled against her, wrapping his long arms around her waist and settling his head on her chest, his cheek resting on her breast. Amy hugged him to her, one hand clasping the arm he had thrown across her stomach and the other lightly touching the crown of his head. Without thought, her fingers rubbed his hair back from his forehead in a casual caress.

"Thank you, Amy. You're a good girlfriend."

She smiled up at the ceiling. "You're welcome, Sheldon."

"We should add a cuddling section to the relationship agreement," he declared.

She smiled again, but said nothing.

They lay like that until she felt him relax against her in sleep. She meant to stay awake to watch over him, but the lack of sleep from the previous evening and the emotional turmoil from earlier had her eyelids drooping. So, tightening her hold on him, Amy fell asleep as well.

— —

When she awoke, the setting sun had surrendered fully to the darkness of night. The light she'd turned on earlier still burned. The only sounds in the room were the even rhythms of their collective breathing and the soft rustling of clothing whenever one of them shifted. Neither of them had moved much during sleep, and Amy had the sore muscles to prove it. One by one, so she wouldn't disturb her still-slumbering bedmate, she stretched her aching limbs. The second she moved her arm, however, Sheldon lifted himself from her chest and settled down next to her. Amy turned so they were facing each other on their sides. She looked him over, hoping the sleep had done him some good. The sorrow was still heavy in his expression, but there was more there as well, an almost-detached curiosity and something with a darker edge to it. Whatever the darkness was; it reminded her of George Jr.

As if he were testing water temperature, Sheldon eased a finger down her cheek. "Meemaw is dead," he stated.

"Yes," Amy replied, unsure of what else she could say.

"I don't think I can handle this, Amy," he said, jerking her body to align with his. He rolled until she was under him. "I want to turn it all off." He rested his forehead in the hollow of her neck, his hot breath making delicate, sensual puffs against her skin. "Just make it all go away. Can you do that?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to comfort him. "I'll be here with you, Sheldon. I promise. You won't have to do this alone."

He leaned up to look at her. "I don't want to think anymore. Can you imagine the very notion of me wanting that? But, I do. I would turn off my mind if I could. I would do anything."

"Sheldon—"

"There have been only two occasions when my brain has ceased to operate—or short-circuited, if you will. You have been the author of both those happenings. Did you know that? The first was the night you and I went dancing with Penny and Bernadette. I went back to your apartment with you. Do you remember?" He leaned closer to her, the rogue finger moving from her cheek to trace over her bottom lip.

She nodded, shakily. _What is he doing?_

"You kissed me, Amy. And, for the first time in my life, I couldn't think. It was bare seconds really. I registered your lips on mine, my eyes closed of their own accord, and—WHAM—brain malfunction. Then, it was over. I remember being fascinated not only by this strange occurrence, but also the fact that I wasn't repelled." His eyes fell on her breasts and stayed there as if were the most normal thing in the world. Amy frowned at this nonchalance.

"Then, there was last night in your bed," he continued, his gaze slowly moving up her chest to return to her face. "Only, this time, the feeling lasted much longer. In fact, it wasn't just a simple malfunction. It was as if someone had shut off my brain completely. I kissed you and, suddenly, I wasn't Sheldon Cooper, brilliant scientific mind any longer. I was Sheldon Cooper, animal consumed by passion."

"Sheldon, I'm sorry—"

"Why? I liked it," he whispered conspiratorially, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. His finger stayed on her lip, rubbing gently back and forth as though he were running durability tests on it. "I didn't like how much I liked it. But I did." His eyes darkened with desire the way they had the previous night. But, this time, it wasn't a welcome sight. It was an alarming one. _What is going on with him? Has he gone insane?_

"I need that now, Amy. Take everything away so I don't have to think about it. Not Meemaw, not George, not what I did, not any of it." His finger moved away as he dipped down to lightly kiss her lips. "I need to stop thinking. Help me stop thinking."

"Sheldon …"

He stared down at her, his eyes so powerful and penetrating that she wanted to melt into a puddle of goo. She knew what he was asking and, any other time, she would have been thrilled to accept. Heck, she would have flipped him over and rode him like a stallion. But, now, she was just too scared of what this would ultimately mean, scared for herself, scared for him and scared this would do more harm than good. She cradled his jaw. "You don't mean this. You're upset because of Meemaw. It's understandable to want to get away from all that you're feeling, but you don't really want to—"

He kissed her. It was more intense that she could have ever imagined. It was as if Sheldon had taken every base urge he'd ever felt and poured it into this one action, this one moment. He wasn't a man of science anymore. He was a man of desire, of hunger, and of … _Good God, where did he learn to do that? _

She couldn't help but respond. The kiss devoured her, and he was just so good at it. _How is this even possible?_ But, all thoughts ceased to be as he stroked his lips over and over hers, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth for a moment before letting go to kiss her again. He'd attack, then retreat, and then do it all over again until she was mindless to do anything but kiss him back. His hands were busy as well. Instead of wasting time running along her arms and sides, they went right for her breasts, fondling them.

"Oh, yes," he raggedly groaned as he broke away from her mouth and kissed his way heatedly down her neck. His nimble fingers moved up from her breasts to begin unbuttoning the collar of her shirt. He fumbled awkwardly there for a moment. Then, with a frustrated grunt, he gave up on the buttons and ripped the shirt open.

Amy's eyes flew open in astonishment. "Sheldon!" she exclaimed.

Like a man on a mission, he made quick work of pushing her undershirt up and her bra down. Then, he did something that had Amy nearly coming off the bed, something she'd fantasized about, but had never been sure he would ever do.

He took her breast into his mouth. She closed her eyes against a kaleidoscope of sensations and arched helplessly against him. He licked and suckled at her nipple until she was a quivering mass of jelly. Then, he moved to the other. He nibbled around the edge, laved the pouty tip with a few flicks of his tongue before drawing it into his hot vacuum of his mouth.

"Oh God," she moaned, raking her hand into his hair to keep his head where it was.

He eased a hand down her side and hip and up her long skirt. Pushing the garment around her waist, he hooked her now free leg up over his hip. Sheldon settled in between her legs like he been there a million times, pressing his hardening manhood against her feminine core. _Divine_, she thought as he rubbed against her. _So divine._ There was no anxiety, discomposure, or second thoughts. His movements held the edge of clumsy naiveté, but he more than made up for that with concentration, attention to detail and curiosity to explore seemingly ever curve of her body.

_Oh, that curiosity_, she thought, trying to recall why this was a bad idea. There was a reason. She was sure of it. There were flashes of lucidity here and there. During one, she grabbed him by the back of the head and made him look at her.

"Sheldon, we can't do this now."

His answer was another soul-ending kiss. She opened her mouth to protest again, but his tongue swooped in to mate with hers. It was another few, torturous minutes before she remembered what she was about. By this time, she'd somehow lost both her shirts, her shoes, and seemed to be wearing her bra as a belt. Likewise, Sheldon was bare-chested, the waistband of his trousers was unbuttoned and unzipped, and, unless she missed her guess, her hand was in there.

He groaned above her as she cupped and squeezed him. "Yes," he pleaded. "Don't stop."

A flash of memory. The day they'd played doctor—_Star Trek_ style. Oh why couldn't this have happened that night? He'd been himself then. But, this was wrong. It felt almost as if she were taking advantage of him in his weakened state, and she just couldn't do it. She was his girlfriend. She loved him. He trusted her. She had to be worthy of that trust.

So, she did the right thing and took her hand out of his pants. She unlocked her legs from around his hips and stopped kissing across his pale chest. It was a lot harder than she would have ever imagined. Amy wanted him so badly it was nearly impossible to resist. But, in the end, she loved him even more than she wanted him. Amy loved him enough to want their first time together to be something special, a physical representation of the feelings they had for each other. Not a way for him to escape from grief.

She placed both hands on his chest and pushed with all her might. Sheldon, who had been arched against her, looked down at her with a frown. "What are you doing? Amy?"

"Get off, Sheldon."

"But, I need you," he said, leaning down to kiss her again.

She turned away so that his mouth landed on her neck. He didn't take this as a rejection. Instead, he kissed and nibbled down to her collar bone. She shivered, but pressed her hands against his chest again.

"You want me, Amy," he begged. "You've wanted this for a while. Let me give it to you."

"No," she said. "I'm saying no, Sheldon."

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't you want me anymore?"

"I always want you, Sheldon. But, I refuse to make love to you under these circumstances. You don't want me. You just don't want to feel the loss of your grandmother. You can't use me to hide from that. You have to face it." She reached out to pat his cheek. "I know how you're hurting. You loved her. I loved her, too."

He jerked back as if she'd slapped him, his eyes blazing with anger. "You don't have a clue what I'm feeling. How could you? You knew her … what? Two days? You can't begin to understand the depth of my feelings for her." He rolled away from her and perched on the edge of the bed, his bare back to her.

"Help me understand then. Talk to me," she said, sitting up.

He turned to glare at her over his shoulder. His expression was haunted. "Talk? What's the point? Will it bring her back? No. She's dead. That's it. You could have helped me, but you refuse to do so!"

"Having sex with me won't bring her back either. You would have only felt worse in the morning."

He jolted to his feet, buttoning and zipping his pants as he looked furiously around for his shoes and shirts. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"So now what? You're going to run away again? When is it time to grow up? Or are you just going to keep running from your problems forever?"

"I don't have to listen to you." He petulantly grabbed his Flash shirt from the floor and yanked it over his head. "I don't have to do this at all."

She jumped off the bed and planted herself in front of the door. She didn't care that she was still naked from the waist up. She only cared about preventing him from going anywhere. "You can't run this time, Sheldon. We're going to talk whether you want to or not. I won't let you leave."

"Really?" he said, sardonically. "And why is that?"

"Because I love you."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_"No Shirt, No Shoes, No Sheldon."__  
__**Penny (TBBT Season 2)**__  
__"The Panty Piñata Polarization"_

"Because I love you."

"I know," he said.

Sheldon collapsed onto the bed, defeated, holding his head in his hands. Amy blinked and froze. _Did I really just say that? Oh Lord, I did! I did. Oh goodness. Why did I do that?_ _How could I have been so stupid! He's probably freaking out and …? _She blinked again as his response started to sink in. _Huh? He knows?_

"You know? What do you mean, you know?" she blurted.

He sighed heavily, but didn't bother to look up. "For a while now, I've had suspicions that your affections were increasing to a romantic level. What you said to me this morning when we were walking over to the diner merely confirmed your feelings."

"What?" This morning seemed like a million years ago. "What did I say?"

"You proposed quarantining the events from the previous night until I was ready to talk about them—even though it was obvious how much you desperately wanted to discuss it. I asked if you were truly all right with that and you said, 'If it is what it takes to make you feel secure and get through the day, Sheldon, yes.' I knew the truth then. What else could it be? Your actions were too selfless. You had to be in love with me." He pronounced his findings like he was walking graduate students through a complex theorem.

"How …?" Her brain was so stuck in neutral she couldn't even get the full question out.

Sheldon still seemed to know what she meant. "I am not as naïve or ingenuous as most would believe. Just because I choose not to mention something does not mean I'm unaware of it. It simply means I know some subjects are better left unexplored."

Amy abandoned the door and slumped down next to him on the bed. _He knows I love him._ _He's suspected for some time. _She couldn't seem to wrap her brain around that. The night he'd spanked her came to mind. He'd said something then … _What was it?_ His voice suddenly rang in her head.

_I thought our relationship was based on trust and a mutual admiration that skews in my favor._

At the time, she'd thought he'd meant something else, but what if he was really talking about love? '_Mutual admiration'. Did that mean…?_

"Sheldon, are you in love with me?"

"No."

There was no pause. No hesitation. No minute to ponder. Just the answer. Short, succinct, and final. Her heart dropped. Amy felt like she'd been hit by a Mack truck. She crossed her arms over her chest, abruptly reminded of her lack of clothing. She'd never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in her life and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was sitting here topless.

Amy got to her feet and shoved her bra back into place. Scanning the floor, she located her undershirt and slipped it on. Her shoes and the lavender button-up shirt, however, failed to turn up. _Fuck it_. She didn't care that she never used that kind of language. Amy only knew she needed to get as far away from this man and this room as she could. _Now._

Sheldon glanced up, as if he had finally become conscious of how his answer to her question would be received. "Amy …"

Grabbing her sweater, Amy threw it over one arm and scooped up her purse.

"Amy …" he said again, getting up from the bed.

She didn't even look at him as she made a beeline for the door. She pulled it open, but his hand slammed it back shut and held it closed. He was right behind her, his chest up against her back. Amy didn't bother to look at him as she said, "Get out of my way, Sheldon. I'm leaving."

"Amy …"

That was it. That was all he said. There was no explanation, no apology, no love. Nothing. Amy grabbed the knob again and tugged on it, but his hand didn't allow it to budge.

She glared over at him. "You don't love me? Then, what was this? Minutes ago, we were rolling around on that bed about to consummate our relationship. If I hadn't stopped you, we would have done it. We would have, Sheldon. I would have done it because I love you. Why would you have done it?"

He winced, but stayed mute. She waited. There was nothing.

She already knew the answer. She also knew she wasn't being fair to him. His grandmother had died, and he was emotionally overwhelmed. He hadn't been himself. But she was hurting and wanted him to hurt, too. If he couldn't love her, he could damn well feel something.

"Amy …" he croaked, pity filling his eyes as he looked at her.

Somehow, that was worse. Amy had spent her life being viewed as pathetic by seemingly everyone around her. Her family, schoolmates, peers. To have Sheldon look at her that way sent her careening over the edge. She flounced back to the door and jerked on the handle. But his hand held firm. The door wouldn't move.

"Sheldon, kindly allow me to exit this room or I am going to show you a helpful trick Penny taught me to deal with overly ardent admirers involving my knee and your penis."

"Amy … please …"

Hearing her name sound again on his lips spurred her forward. She turned on him, intent on delivering on her threat. Sheldon caught her glare, yelped, and jumped back. Amy took immediate advantage of this and sprinted out of the door.

She returned to her room long enough to change her clothes and grab a pair of shoes. Then, she was gone again. As she passed his door, she idly wondered if he was still in there and what he was thinking. Just as quickly, she decided she didn't care. She was too hurt to care right now. In fact, she felt on the verge of insanity, like she wanted to eviscerate anything in her path.

_Is this what heartbreak feels like?_ She'd always heard the saying "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," but had never truly understood the concept until right now. Anger and humiliation fueled her as she made it to the car and sped out of the parking lot. Amy didn't know where she was driving to or what she'd do when she got there. She only knew she had to keep going until she didn't feel this way anymore.

At this point, that felt like California.

— —

Turns out, it was the first Amoco station off I-45.

Amy pulled into the station when her tears became too blinding to drive. She stumbled inside the store, bought a bottle of water, a handful of chocolate, and the largest box of Kleenex they had, and probably emotionally traumatized the clerk because she couldn't stop crying while she was trying to punch in her debit card PIN. She'd just made it back to the car when Penny called. Now, two hours later, the bottle of water was empty, the chocolate was consumed, dozens of tissues littered the backseat, and Amy had finally finished relating all that had happened to Penny.

"Wow, Ames. That is some weekend you're having there," her friend commented.

Amy nodded in agreement as she blew her nose. Once she was done, she tossed the tissue into the back with the others, grabbed another, and adjusted the phone at her ear.

"Wow. Just wow," Penny repeated, seemingly unable to say anything else. With all that she'd just been told, Amy wasn't surprised. "Amy, do you need me to come to Texas? I will, you know."

"No! I'm f-f-fine," she sobbed. The new Kleenex crumbled under the weight of her tears. Amy pitched it over her shoulder and reached for another, only to find the box empty. She searched for something else to wipe with. When nothing presented itself, she considered the sleeve of her sweater. After a brief internal debate of hygiene versus the need for a dry face, she shrugged and swiped her sleeve over her swollen, water-logged eyes. "Really, Penny. I'm OK."

"Sweetie, you've been on the phone with me most of the night and you were crying before I even said, 'Hello'. You need_ someone_ to come—if for nothing else than to smack Sheldon for you."

"No, I'll be fine. I'm starting to feel better … really." It wasn't entirely a lie. Getting the whole story out had allowed her to be able to think somewhat logically again. "And, Penny, don't you dare tell Leonard or any of the rest of them what I told you. I don't care how much toe-curling foreplay your lover delivers, you must keep this to yourself. In such cases as these, best friend conversations are as sacrosanct as patient-doctor confidentiality."

"Sacro-what?"

"Private, Penny!" Amy sniffed and dabbed at her face with her remaining dry sleeve. "I mean it. Don't tell anyone. Sheldon's meemaw just died. He can't handle anything else right now."

"He already called Leonard."

Amy paused mid-wipe. "What? What did he say?"

"I thought you said best friend conversations are private," Penny teased.

"Bestie, I have suffered the death of a dear friend, almost had sex with my germ phobic boyfriend … twice, and just had him tell me in no uncertain terms that he doesn't love me and apparently never will. Do you really think this is an appropriate time to mock me?"

"I'm just trying to make you laugh. It's the best I could think of over the phone," Penny said. "Look, all I know is that he's as tore up about this as you are. Leonard said he kept talking about not being 'good boyfriend material' or something like that. So, obviously he feels bad about how he treated you. Anyone with eyes can see he loves you. I've known him for almost a decade, and you're the only woman he's ever looked at twice. He's just being stubborn. Besides, didn't his meemaw tell you he loved you? I thought you believed her."

"I did … and I do. I know he loves me. It was just … in the heat of the moment … to have him give me a flat 'no' like that. It was jarring, and I reacted badly. That made it worse. I should never have left him. He's been through so much. I merely added to his turmoil. I'm a horrible girlfriend."

"You're not a horrible anything. You've been the best thing to ever happen to him, and he knows it. You should have seen him when you started dating Stuart. He even asked me out to try to make you jealous. Can you believe it?"

"He did?" Amy asked, a smile cracking the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah. He was so desperate. You should have seen him. He was like a fish on the hook who just hadn't realized he was trapped yet. And, when he bought you the tiara that time? Do you know how much that thing cost? It had real gems in it, you know. It wasn't just one of those plastic ones they sell at Wal-Mart. Then, you kissed him and _he let you_. He didn't push you away or freak out or anything. He actually held you. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen." Penny gave a romantic little sigh that Amy found endearing. "My mom always said there's a lid for every pot. I don't think I ever truly believed that until I saw you and Sheldon that night. You two prove that saying to me all the time."

"You're right. I should have been more understanding," Amy said.

Penny scoffed. "No, you did the right thing. You give him too much leeway sometimes, Ames. You're the most patient person I know and that's great. But the relationship can't always be about his feelings and him getting what he needs. You have to have your turn too. Sometimes, you've got to put your foot down in the relationship and remind your guy about that. And, if his conversation with Leonard was any indication, Sheldon definitely got that memo."

"Really?" Amy asked. "You think so?" A full-on smile spread across her face. She was already imagining what the next morning would bring. No doubt, Sheldon would come calling with half the contents of the quickie mart in tow this time. She giggled at the mental picture.

"Oh, yeah. Just don't make him suffer too long before you forgive him. Stand by his side throughout the funeral and, the second you get a chance, jump his bones. Then, once you two come up for air, he won't be able to deny his feelings any more. Sex changes everything. Believe me, I know."

Amy considered this carefully. "Really? It's his grandmother's funeral. Are you sure sex after that isn't … tacky?"

"Nah … People get all down in the dumps at a funeral. It makes them focus too much on their own mortality. Sex reminds them they're still alive. It's always worked for me."

"Also, the endorphins released during orgasm are intensely pleasurable." Amy added. "Do you know, a 2000 Duke study found that, for some people, having sex three times a week proved more effective in lessening depression than taking Zoloft? Isn't that fascinating?"

There was a long pause before Penny replied, "Are you saying having sex with Sheldon is like a public service you're providing during his time of grief?" Amy heard Penny take a large gulp from what she presumed was a glass of wine. "You know what … never mind. Whatever gets you on the horse, sweetie. Just ride 'em, cowgirl!"

"Got it. You will be surprised by how much physical relationship ground Sheldon and I have covered in so short a time. He's a little clumsy, but he learns fast. Plus, he's able to build on what he's learned in the most ingenious of ways."

"Let me guess," Penny said with a laugh. "Your make-out sessions are frequent, intense, and whimsically inventive?"

"Exactly!" Amy answered. Then, as her friend's laughter turned to guffaws, she frowned and looked at the phone. "Bestie, is there a joke I'm missing?"

Another gulp sounded before Penny sputtered, "No, of course not! I was just … too much wine, sweetie. I'm drunk. Yeah, that's it. Everything is funny when you're drunk."

"Perhaps you should cease drinking then. I am in need of instruction here and the more sober you are, the better. Oh yes, this reminds me. I have already figured out—in a most unpleasant way—that it is not appropriate to bring up one's boyfriend's mother during a post-make-out session. I was hoping that, when I returned to Pasadena, you and I might go over all the standard operating procedures so I won't make any more coital faux pas."

"Standard operating … um … OK. I guess," Penny answered.

Amy exhaled, feeling better. "I should probably get off here now. It is getting late, I have not eaten all day, and I should probably check on Sheldon before I go to bed. He hasn't eaten today either."

"OK, but don't get into the big talk tonight. You both could use some more cooling off time," Penny advised.

"Got it," Amy said. And, making her final goodbyes, she hung up the phone. Thirty minutes later, she was exiting the elevator on the way back to her room. She paused in front of Sheldon's door and gave a brief knock.

He answered, misery still clearly written all over his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"We can talk in the morning," she said. "I just brought you this." She held out a Big Boy bag for him to take. "I know it's late, but you really should eat something."

He stared at the bag he was now holding. "This is my favorite burger," he said.

"I know. I thought it might cheer you up. Good night," she said, and turned away.

"Amy …" he called.

She didn't turn back. She couldn't. Not right now. "We'll talk in the morning, Sheldon. I promise."

"In the morning," he repeated, almost as if he were reassuring himself.

Then, sneaking a small smile at him over her shoulder, Amy unlocked her door and went into her room.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

_"It's on like Alderaan."__  
__**Rajesh Koothrappali (TBBT Season 5)  
**__"The Weekend Vortex"_

Amy was wrong. Sheldon didn't show up at her door the next morning with the contents of the quickie mart in tow. He came bearing breakfast from the diner.

"I thought I would take a page from your book," he explained. "Do you mind if we eat in your room? I thought it might be best."

"I don't mind. Please come in," Amy invited, stepping aside so he could enter.

Adjusting four plastic bags in his hands, Sheldon carefully picked his way around her. He stopped once he was in no danger of touching her and handed one of them over.

"Here are your shirt and shoes," he said. "You left them behind."

"Thank you," she said, taking the bag and closing the door behind him. As she went to place the bag on the chest of drawers, Sheldon walked over to the two-person table against the far wall and started setting out assorted Styrofoam containers.

"It's Monday," he announced. "So, of course, I got oatmeal for myself. However, as I wasn't sure what you would prefer, I ordered a variety of selections. Feel free to take as much or as little as you want."

Amy came up behind him, admiring the edible tableau set before her. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and mixed fruit. He'd bought enough food to feed a small city.

"Thank you, Sheldon. Everything looks mouthwatering," she said.

He looked up, noticed how close she was, and took an immediate two steps back. "Please," he said, waving an arm congenially at the table, "have a seat."

Amy was a little disconcerted by his detached behavior, but considering all that had happened yesterday, she wasn't terribly surprised. Also, as this version of him was more along the lines of the Sheldon she knew, she didn't make much of it. She sat down, and he did the same.

She helped herself to the pancakes, bacon and some of the fruit and was pleased to see that he'd remembered she liked coffee in the morning. _That sexy eidetic memory of his_, Amy thought with a grin.

She poured syrup over her pancakes as Sheldon pulled the cover off his bowl of oatmeal and tore the plastic wrapper off his spoon. He gave the oatmeal a stir and turned the Styrofoam container one full revolution counterclockwise. She wouldn't have thought anything about it if he hadn't repeated his action a little bit later. Another minute passed, and he did it a third time. Seeming satisfied at last, he dug into his food.

Amy wasn't sure what that was or what she should say to him about it—if anything. Perhaps it was nothing—an odd quirk because it wasn't his usual oatmeal. Then again, it could be his obsessive-compulsive disorder tendencies asserting themselves in the wake of all the emotional trauma of the weekend. No doubt, he was repressing a lot of what had happened so he could conduct himself calmly and talk to her. All that repression came at a heavy price.

Amy decided to keep watch over him. After all, one occurrence was hardly definitive proof of anything. He could just be nervous about talking to her. Plus, he was in major denial about his ritualistic knocking behavior being the root of OCD. Pointing this out would only upset him further—which was the last thing she wanted or he needed.

After a few bites of her breakfast, Amy mentally rooted around for a safer topic. When she'd found one, she said, "Sheldon, I wanted to tell you—"

"Amy, I know you and I have several things of importance to talk about this morning. However, might I suggest for the betterment of both our digestive tracks, that we postpone the discussion until we have finished eating?"

"Of course. I was merely going to point out that I checked the website for Morrison's Funeral Home this morning. They have Meemaw's obituary listed as well as a photo. She looks quite beautiful. I wasn't aware funeral arrangements had already been made."

Sheldon looked down, picking at his oatmeal. "Yes. Mom, Missy and George took care of all of that yesterday. There will be a viewing tomorrow evening, and the funeral will take place Wednesday afternoon. Following the service, she'll be interred next to Pop-Pop at the Maple Grove Cemetery. They called to tell me about it all last night."

"Well, I emailed the obituary to you. You can read over it when you get a chance."

Sheldon glanced up. "Thank you, Amy. That means a lot." His eyes inadvertently darted to her breasts before darting away. He clenched his jaw and stared back down at his meal.

"You're welcome," Amy said, trying to keep her tone friendly as if she hadn't noticed. "I never knew your grandmother had an associate's degree in accounting."

Sheldon nodded. "Pop-Pop was a mechanic. He operated his own shop, and Meemaw did the bookkeeping for him. They sent her to school to have the necessary education to adequately do the job. She was always good at math; so it was a natural fit."

"No doubt, her skill in mathematics was passed to you." Amy gave a consolatory smile. "You know, this same obituary is probably in the local newspaper as well. I bet they have them downstairs in the lobby. We should pick up one before we go to your mother's."

"Thank you, Amy," Sheldon repeated, eyeing her with an expressive mix of misery and unease. "I'll make sure to do that."

The rest of the breakfast was completed in companionable silence. Sheldon insisted on cleaning up the mess and removing the remaining food and trash from her room so she wouldn't have to "deal with the smell of old, fried food". Once the clean-up was completed, however, he brought out his beige satchel. He resumed his seat and opened the case, pulling out a sheaf of papers and his notary supplies. Amy was at a complete loss to what this meant. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped himself and jumped to his feet.

Rummaging through the last plastic bag remaining, he set a covered Styrofoam cup in front of her.

"What is this?" Amy asked.

"Hot tea. I thought you could use it."

"Thank you," she said, not liking the idea that he was giving her a hot beverage. In Sheldon's world, hot beverages were never indicators of good things. She set the cup away from her, hoping it would be possible to just as easily put aside the issues between them.

"Amy," he said once he had the items in front of him organized to his liking. "First, I must deliver an apology to you. My behavior yesterday was deplorable. I was brutish in my treatment of you and took advantage of your feelings for me to push my own agenda. Please understand that I take full responsibility for my appalling actions, and I am heartily sorry."

"Sheldon, I accept your apology. However—"

He held up a hand to stave off her words. "Please let me to finish. Then, you will be allowed a period of rebuttal. I promise. With all that I have put you through, you have certainly earned the right to 'rake me over the coals' as it were.

Amy nodded, but eyed him warily. Something was very rotten in the state of Denmark and, apparently, there was nothing to be done but wait to see how this was going to play out. _He loves you_, she reassured herself. _He loves you—even if he doesn't know it yet. And, the fact that he's apologizing is a step in the right direction, right?_ Somehow, though, she didn't feel better.

Sheldon straightened his notary stamp, took a deep breath, and said, "As you know, I'm a firm believer that those guilty of wrongdoing should be punished accordingly. And, as such, only one punishment truly fits my 'crime'."

He separated a few papers from the sheaf and set them before her. "Therefore, I present to you official notice of the termination of our relationship agreement. Sign this and everything else has been taken care of. I have made arrangements with the airline to issue you a new ticket home to Pasadena. You are on a 2:05 nonstop to LAX. You will only need a license to pick up your ticket at the airline service counter. I took the liberty of checking you in online this morning."

He set another piece of paper in front of her. It looked like a receipt. "The bill for your room has been transferred to my credit card. You only need to give them your motel card keys on the way out and you'll be done. Likewise, I have called the rental car company. They're expecting the car to be returned today. I tried to get them to allow me to put the cost for the car on my credit card as well, but they said they could only do that if I showed up in person. However, if you will email me a copy of the receipt when you return home, I will make sure you are reimbursed for that expense as well. I also took the liberty of sending an email to your supervisor at work alerting him to what has happened to delay you and assuring him that you will return to the lab by tomorrow." He released the pent up breath he'd apparently been holding. "I believe that is everything."

He handed her a pen. "Sign here," he said, pointing at a long signature line. "Then, initial here, here, and here, and I will be out of your hair."

There had been many unexpected things that had happened to Amy during the course of this weekend. But, this one took the proverbial cake. She blinked, stared down the paper, blinked again, looked up at the pen he continued to hold out to her, blinked a third time, and glanced up at Sheldon. He stared back, all business.

_He's serious_, she thought. The idea that he was trying to break up with her was devastating, of course, but she was able to push past that to see what was at the core of all this. This break up idea of his wasn't about hurting her, it was about hurting himself. One need only consider the words he'd used to describe his behavior to figure that out. "Brutish," "deplorable," and "appalling". Sheldon had devised the worst punishment he could think of and that was depriving himself of something he didn't feel like he deserved anymore.

_Me_. Amy inwardly smiled. _He really does love me._ Still, as secure as she was in that knowledge, she was frustrated by his obstinacy in the matter of admitting it—not only to her, but to himself.

… _he's been hurt a lot. To cope, he's built walls. He thinks they'll protect him ..._

Meemaw's words came back to her, as if the dear woman were providing advice from beyond the grave. _And_, Amy considered, _maybe she is._ She closed her eyes, wanting desperately to feel Meemaw's soothing presence once more.

_Just talk to Sheldon. You're smart like him. You can speak his language. Make him understand. Tell him what you want. If there's a way he can get it for you, he will._

The memory of that gentle voice was such a comfort. But, it made Amy miss her all the more. Still, Meemaw had a lot of faith in her, and there was no way she was going to let that woman down. Sheldon was pushing her away and locking himself behind his walls. _Not if I have anything to say about it, _she thought, emboldened more than she'd ever been in her life. _I'm the woman for him. All I've got to do is show him._

She took the pen. But, instead of signing the form, she placed it down on the table. "Is it time for my rebuttal?" she asked.

He faltered, his attention still on the pen she wasn't using. "It is your right, of course." He grimaced and forced himself to look at her. "Let me have it."

"I have only two things to say. One, I accept your apology; and two, I reject your proposal."

"What? You can't reject it," he exclaimed.

She picked up all the papers and tossed them back to him. "I can, I will, and I have. It's clear that I have given you too much power in this relationship. You're making a muck of it. Obviously, I'm going to need to be in charge until you can see reason. I had resolved not to push you anymore, to allow you to come to me of your own free will. But, I can see now you're going to be too stubborn about this, and I flatly refuse to willingly submit while you push me away."

"But, Amy," he sputtered, "I practically molested you yesterday."

"I know," she replied with a sassy wink, "and under more appropriate circumstances, I expect you to do so again. But, we should work out our issues first, don't you think?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a series of deep breaths before he spoke again. "Amy, I'm fond of you, of course. But, I don't love you. I never will … not like you love me. I don't wish to bring you any more pain, but you must accept this." He looked at her straight on. "Remaining in this relationship—while it is what I desire more than anything—wouldn't be fair to you. You'll always want more from me than I'll be able to give. I've known this for some while and I thought, if I could perhaps engage in coitus with you from time to time, it would be enough to keep you happy. But, I can see now it won't be. You'll want me to love you, and I … just … can't. I've been a selfish bastard towards you and, for that, I'm sorry."

Amy settled back against her chair. "Well, that's one apology I'm not going to accept."

He gaped at her. "Why are you deliberately being obtuse about this?"

"Because I love you. I love you!" She laughed. "Oh, you truly do not understand the freedom that comes with saying those words out loud. Allow me to do it again. I love you, Sheldon Cooper. Ah! Yes, lovely!" Amy leaned forward conspiratorially. "Want to know a secret?"

Sheldon frowned at her like she'd clearly lost her mind. Nevertheless, he leaned towards her obligingly and asked, "What?"

"You're in love with me, too."

He groaned in frustration and collapsed against the back of his chair. "Have you not heard a single word I've said or have you just gone out of your senses, woman?"

"Oh, I've heard it all, and I am remarkably sane." She rested her elbows on the table as she inclined forward. "Now, let me tell you what is going to happen. You and I are not breaking up. Not now and not ever. You're the best man I'm ever going to know, you're sexy both inside and out, and I am desperately in love with you." She laughed as her declaration caused another delicious zing to pop through her veins. "Goodness," she said, putting a hand to her racing heart. "I am never going to get tired of saying that to you. Now, where was I?"

Sheldon eyed her uncomfortably. "You were apparently losing you mind and telling me I was the best man you'd ever known," he said.

"Thank you," she said, getting up from her chair. "You're the only man for me, and I think we can both agree that I am obviously the only woman for you. Your stubbornness would try the patience of a saint. Plus, you're so attracted to me—mind and body—that you can barely keep your hands to yourself."

"I haven't touched you today," he protested.

She shrugged. "You were eyeing my breasts earlier. That counts."

He flushed three shades of crimson as he buried his face in his hands, visibly mortified by his behavior. "I told you that I'm fond of you, Amy, and I will even admit I'm attracted to you," he said, his voice muffled by his hands. "But sexual attraction does not equate to love. Surely you are not so naïve as to believe it does?"

"For most people, I would agree with you." Amy crossed her arms over her chest as she looked him over. He was so cute when he was refusing to see the truth staring him in the face. Penny was right. He was a fish who wasn't aware he'd already swallowed the hook. Apparently, it was time to tug on the line and introduce a little awareness into his life. "To how many women have you been sexually attracted, Sheldon?"

His head shot up in outrage. "None. Except you, of course!" The second the words came out of his mouth, he paled and visibly swallowed … hard.

She grinned. _Tug. Tug_. "See?"

Sheldon surged to his feet, closing the distance between them. "Stop this, Amy. Stop being so pigheaded and just listen to me before you get hurt any more. I'm trying to do something unselfish for once and let you go so you can find someone else, someone better."

She slowly shook her head. "Someone better? I told you there's no one better for me than you. You're it for me, Sheldon. Don't you understand? I love you."

"Well, I don't love you, Amy," he said, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "And I never will. It's not possible!"

"Not possible?" Amy echoed, remembering saying much the same thing to Meemaw only days ago. "Sheldon, approximately 225 million years ago, the seven continents were assembled into one supercontinent known as Pangea."

"I know. Plate tectonics pushed the land masses to where they are right now. But, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Someone wise once said to me that if time and pressure can move mountains like that, then nothing's impossible." She waited a moment for her full meaning to sink into him. He seemed quite dumbstruck by everything. "Do you know who told me that?"

Shakily, he glanced over at her. "Who?"

"Meemaw."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_"It must be hell inside your head."__  
__**Leonard Hofstadter (TBBT Season 2)**__  
__"The Classified Materials Turbulence"_

Sheldon stared at Amy as if he'd never seen her before. "You'd use Meemaw to try to make your point?"

"I'm not using her. I'm telling the truth. She and I were talking about this very thing, and she said it to me. You love me, Sheldon, as much as I love you. She recognized that," Amy argued. "Why can't you? Why not admit it? Would it be so terrible?"

He pivoted away from her and walked over to window. Pushing aside the heavy curtains, he stared out. "It's not a question of admitting to anything. I can't love you," he said, back still to her, "no matter what _anyone_ thinks. That's the truth." He paused as if he had to gather his courage. "I loved Meemaw and I love my family. But the kind of love you want me to feel for you isn't something I'm capable of. It's an immortal fire that consumes you, takes you over body and soul until you don't know where you end and the other person begins, makes you want to be more than you can ever dream to be, and burns within you until you'd walk through the blazes of hell to keep the one you love from harm."

He looked down. "Pop-pop once told me that. It's the way he felt about Meemaw. But, it's not something I can give you." Sheldon exhaled and finally turned to her with misery-laden eyes. "As brilliant as I am, there are things even I can't do, Amy. Whatever it is inside other people which allows them to process and revel in all that emotion, I don't have. I never will." He brought a hand up to cover his face. "I'm weak, too weak to manage that kind of … chaos. If you only knew what it was like to be inside my mind all the time, you'd understand. I'm sorry—so sorry—but I can't love you."

He jumped when she took his hand away from his face and held it in hers, but he didn't pull away.

"Tell me," she said.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "What?"

"You said if I knew what it was like to be inside of your mind, I would understand. Describe it."

"I can't. I don't know how." Flustering, his gaze fell on everything but her.

She reached up and cupped his cheek with her free hand until he was forced to look at her. Her voice was barely a whisper, but, nonetheless, she had his full attention. "Please, Sheldon, just talk to me. You're a theoretical physicist. Your imagination knows no bounds. Paint me a picture of what goes on inside of your brain."

"I'm not crazy," he blurted. "My mother had me tested."

He'd said that so many occasions in the past, but now she had a better understanding of what he meant by it. His fear was palpable.

"I've never thought you were crazy, and I never will," she soothed. Amy pulled him over to the bed and pressed him to sit down. She sat next to him. "Close your eyes."

He flinched and arched away. "Amy," he begged.

She let go of him and scooted back as far as she could while still sitting on the bed. "I won't touch you or try to kiss you. I promise I just want to see what you see. Close your eyes and tell me."

He looked at her, still wary.

"Trust me. I just want to understand. I won't judge you or think you're crazy. I promise. But, if you want me to accept that you can't love me, this is the only way."

Sheldon continued to stare at her for the longest time. But, after several minutes, he clasped his hands tightly together in his lap and closed his eyes.

"Good. What do you see?"

"Nothing. My eyes are closed," he answered.

"No, pretend this is a game. Imagine a room in your mind and put yourself there." She paused as his brow furrowed in concentration. "Have you done it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, what do you see?"

"I'm in the room with tiled walls and a linoleum floor. There are thoughts … everywhere. They're in everything, everywhere. They're multiplying like drops of water from a heavy rain. I can't stop them. The level of water is rising. I have to sort them and put them away before …"

"Sheldon," she interrupted, keeping her tone businesslike. "Tell me what the thoughts are."

"Which ones?"

"Whichever ones are closest. Don't edit or try to pick and choose. Just read them off as you see them. Got it?"

He nodded, keeping his eyes closed. "I need a suit. Mom said. Social construct. Always wear suits to funerals. I didn't pack one. Amy is approximately eleven inches away from me. I can feel her body heat from here. 98.6 degrees. Why would I ever think I would need a suit for a family reunion? That's no excuse. I know better than to not prepare. The statistical probability was still there. What is the statistical probability of this? If I solve for X in the—I shouldn't be sitting on this bed. It's made, but I still shouldn't be sitting here. Amy has slept here. Dead skin cells are, no doubt, abundant and mites feasting on those skin cells. The standard bed frame is 25 inches in height from the floor to the top of the mattress, but this one feels like 23 inches. Why do people wear suits to funerals? It's far more logical for one to be comfortable when one is mourning. It's not like the deceased will notice. Flowers. Meemaw loves daisies. _Loved_ daisies. I must buy her daisies. Will it matter? It's not like she'll notice. I'll notice and social convention calls for flowers at funerals. And coffins. Meemaw will be lying in a coffin. How will I handle that? Oh God, what if I cry in public? Will George mock me? What if I hit him again? Amy was lying naked in this bed. I've seen her naked. Her breasts were in my hands, in my mouth. There are over three million known types of germs in the average human mouth. What if I contracted some new strain of bacteria by putting her breast in my mouth? I could die! Meemaw is dead. How can she be dead? I still needed her. Didn't she know that? How could she leave me? The average life expectancy of an adult female in the United States is 80.5 years. Meemaw was 86. She lived 5.5 years longer than the national average. Longer, but not long enough. I need a suit for her funeral and a handkerchief—just in case. I refuse to use a communal box of tissues that have been touched by who knows how many hands. Hands. I put my hands on Amy. I couldn't stop myself. I must stop myself from hurting her. She loves me. She can't love me. I can't love her. I want to, but I—"

He broke off, peeked up at her, and quickly looked away, no doubt mortified by all that he'd revealed. For Amy's part, she was riveted. She could have listened to him all day. "Is that all of them?"

He swallowed and stared at the floor. "Not even a third," he replied. "If I don't organize and sort them, it becomes chaotic and I drown. I can't drown. The key is organization. It's the only way I can … function."

She nodded. "Has it always been this way?"

Sheldon took a moment to ponder that. "Yes."

"But, you can sort the thoughts, right? And, once you sort them, you feel better?"

He looked up at her and sighed. "You still don't understand. The thoughts are only part of the problem. There are also the questions."

"The questions?"

He nodded. "Sometimes, they get mixed into my thoughts. Sometimes, they stand alone. My mind constantly wonders things and I must know the answer." He shrugged. "But, that usually involves an equation; so I can figure those out easily. Or through a quick Google search or trip to the library. Then, there are also memories. I remember everything from every day of my life. Not just the events. The way things looked, the smells, the tastes, the sounds, what was said and by whom, the weather, the scenery. Everything. Memories usually outnumber the thoughts and the questions combined. Then, there are emotions." He shuddered. "They're heavier than the rest and harder to sort. Too heavy. When I was four, I found it was easier if I just forced them away. If I could push them away, I didn't have to deal with them. It was … more peaceful that way. When I found physics, it was a miracle." His face broke out into a relieved smile.

"Why?"

"It taught me to focus on one topic. When working through a physics problem, I feel almost … well, what I assume one would feel if one were normal. The thoughts slow, the emotions are forgotten, the memories still, and the questions narrow down to the single vein of whatever I am working on. It's calming."

Amy own brain was spinning. She'd always considered Sheldon's intelligence and eidetic memory to be wonderful things. The reality of them seemed not as wonderful now. It was never easy being highly intelligent. She knew this herself. But, she'd never imagined Sheldon was suffering like this. It explained so much. His ritualistic behavior, his strict adherence to schedules, his need to control everything, and his social and emotional immaturity. They were all ways he was trying to bring order to the chaos of his mind. He was merely trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for himself.

It was heartbreaking how much he had to struggle.

"Sheldon, I'm so sorry," she began, scooting nearer to him.

"Don't," he said, shifting back away from her in alarm. "Don't you dare pity me. Meemaw said I should never let anyone pity me or tell me I'm not as good as them. I'm not as good. I'm better. I'll always be better. I am special, singular, superior. Few people will ever match my intelligence or level of understanding. I am Homo Novus. I can't let it get the better of me. With great power comes great responsibility. Meemaw said. I'm not crazy. My mother had me …" He broke down and wept.

She closed the distance between them and wrapped him in her arms. He clung to her, grabbing the back of her shirt in tight fists as he buried his face in her neck. Amy cupped the back of his head, rocking back and forth and making light, shushing sounds. _Meemaw's the smartest of us all_, she thought. She'd taken Sheldon's insecurities and made him into a superhero. _No wonder he loves comic books so much. It's one of the few places where he truly belongs. And I know all about wanting to belong. I'm an expert at it._

"It'll be all right," she kept saying, unsure if this was about Meemaw, them, or the sheer exhaustion he must be feeling from having to deal with his own mind all the time. Maybe it was all three. Whatever it was, she didn't let him go. She held him, pressing light kisses along his forehead as she continued to rock. "It will be. You'll see."

"No. No. No," he murmured, pressing himself closer to her. His voice was muffled against her skin. "It won't be. It won't ever be again."

"It will be. You're a very intelligent man, Sheldon. You fell in love with a neurobiologist. Nobody knows brains like me. You know, this might have been the smartest thing you've ever done."

He pulled back from her, aghast. "I'm not in love with you. I can't be. I told you. I thought you understood. I can't—" His eyes were wild and fearful as he looked anywhere but at her. He was going into full panic mode. She could see it. "I-I-I-I-I-I-"

She took his face in her hands and lightly kissed him. And, just like that, he stopped speaking. He blinked, the ferocity and terror fading from his expression. He relaxed, blinked again, and looked at her in question.

"Why did you do that?"

She smiled and gave a little shrug. "You were freezing up. I thought a little reboot could help."

Sheldon looked down, as if searching inside himself. "It did," he said. "Thank you."

"I can help you, Sheldon. You just have to let me."

"Why would you want to?" He seemed genuinely perplexed. "There are other men who could give you the kind of love you deserve. Normal men."

Amy smiled at him. He was so cute when he was being all noble and self-sacrificing. "What makes you think I want normal? I'm just as abnormal as you. I spent most of my life desperately trying to fit in somewhere, trying to find my place in the world, trying to make my square peg fit a round hole. And you know what? It never did. Not until I walked into a certain coffee shop and had a man with blue eyes and an amazing mind ask to buy me a tepid water. With you is where I fit. You understand me in a way few do. You talk to me every day—several times a day. Not because you want something from me or because you're somehow obligated to do so, but because it's something you actually want to do."

His face scrunched in outrage. "Who wouldn't want to talk to you? You're brilliant, funny, and vastly stimulating—and you love monkeys."

"No one else has ever felt that way about me, Sheldon. Just you. I belong with you."

"But I can't give you what you want."

"You already have. Because of you, I don't just have a boyfriend who understands me and actually wants to spend time with me, but I also belong to a great group of people. I actually have a social life. I even have a best friend now. Can you imagine how long I've wanted that? Because of you, I have all that and more."

He looked down at his clenched hands. "But what about love? What happens when I can't give you that? You'll leave me then, right?"

"You're going to have to trust me and trust yourself. You're capable of much more than you know. I believe you already love me, and, if you let me, I can show you. We can do this together. It doesn't have to be decided today or even this week. We have plenty of time. All I require from you now is that you try. Can you do that?"

His phone ringing in his pocket interrupted them. On reflex, he pulled it out, glanced at the screen and flinched. "It's Missy. I have to take this. I'm incredibly late." He answered it and got up from the bed to pace the room as he talked.

"Yes, Missy. My apologies. Amy and I were talking, and the time got away from me."

Amy watched him walk around the room, talking to his sister. As the conversation droned on, her stomach clenched with worry. No longer in the spotlight of his attention, virulent thoughts started to attack her confidence. _What if he doesn't accept? What else can I say to persuade him? Is there really anything more to say?_ She closed her eyes, knowing the truth. There wasn't. Sheldon would either agree to try or he wouldn't. And, if he said "no" this time, she'd have no choice but to walk away.

"Yes, I know. I've already talked to Mom," he said, turning his back on her.

Amy felt that like a slap to the face. It made it hard to fight off the coming rejection welling inside of her. _C'mon, Fowler, you've survived worse. You'll survive this, too._ _Rejection is practically your middle name._ She closed her eyes, trying to push it all away, but failing miserably. She'd never been good at that. But, picking herself up and dusting herself off? At that, Amy Farrah Fowler was a professional.

_Even if my heart gets broken_, she decided, drawing her gaze longingly over his strong shoulders and down his tapered back, _I love him. I just love him. I'll never be sorry for that._

"—No, don't worry about that. Amy can take me. I'm sure she won't mind"

Her ears perked up. Sheldon turned to face her. "Yes, Missy. Of course she's staying. Yes, yes, I know what I told Mom. I was mistaken." He sighed. "Yes, I just admitted I was wrong. No, I won't say it again so you can record it." He sighed again. "Yes, Amy will be at the funeral. She's my girlfriend. Where else would she be?" His blue eyes caught her gaze and held it, intently. "She belongs with me."

She didn't need to hear anything else. Amy bounded off the bed and across the room before another minute passed. She snatched the phone from his startled fingers, said, "He'll call you back," and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Amy!" Sheldon cried as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You just threw my phone. Do you have any idea how much that cost—"

Her kiss interrupted him. Sheldon seemed too astonished at first to do more than stand there, but he soon got the hang of things and started kissing her back. She ran her hands up his neck and tangled her fingers into the back of his hair. He angled his head, deepening the kiss as she opened her mouth to receive him.

She finally broke off, trying to remember how to breathe. _God, if he gets any better at that, I might die_, she thought. She glanced up to see how Sheldon was faring. His eyelids were drooped to half-mast, his mouth was swollen, and his eyes looked glassy. It was fabulous. Her heart soared in her chest until she felt like she could fly.

He exhaled and, with a swift shake of his head, came back to himself. He looked down at her, his expression chiding. "You know, just because I've agreed to try doesn't mean we should turn into a bunch of free-loving hippies who can't keep their hands off each other."

"Baby steps," she teased with a laugh. Then, before he could get annoyed, she kissed him again. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist as if he couldn't bear to ever let her go. It wasn't an outright declaration of love by any means.

But, for Amy, it was progress.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_"Two years ago, we didn't even know each other. And, now, I'm in your apartment after dark. How much faster can this thing go?"__  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 5)**__  
__"The Launch Acceleration"_

Sheldon, of course, terminated all physical affection seconds later. He removed his hands from her waist and bracketed them against her shoulders until he was physically holding her back from him.

"We must cease this, Amy. We have many things to get done today, and I'm already terribly behind schedule," he said.

_And we're back to old Sheldon again_, Amy thought. "What happened to being consumed by desire whenever you kiss me?" she asked, more than a little disappointed.

"Perhaps it only happens when we're lying down. Intriguing. I must make a note of this. Perhaps if I contained our physical congress to only when we are—"

Amy rolled her eyes and kissed him again, this time putting all she had into it. After a minute or so, she broke off to find him as disoriented as ever. _There. That's better._ She grinned, relishing this newfound power she seemed to have over her boyfriend. _Amy Farrah Fowler, sexual goddess. Who knew? _

"Or it could be I wasn't giving it enough effort," she commented. "You seem to like it when I use my tongue especially. I'll make a note of _that_."

This seemed to jar him out of his stupor. "I don't—I wouldn't—I—" he sputtered.

"Yes?" she asked, daring him to argue.

"The evidence does support that," he finally agreed, with a defeated sigh.

She giggled. "Cheer up, Sheldon. I'm your girlfriend. It's acceptable to enjoy kissing your girlfriend. If it makes you feel better, I enjoy kissing you as well. And, apparently, I like it when you French kiss me, too."

"You like it better when I nibble on your ear," he declared.

It was Amy's turn to be jarred. "What?"

"Eidetic memory," he explained, tapping a finger against his noggin. "Even if I am not cognizant in the moment—so to speak—I am able to remember every detail later. When I took your lobe between my teeth and bit gently, it elicited a strong response from you. Your breathing rate increased and you let out the most interesting noise. It sounded like a 'hoo' and a low moan. You also seemed to like it when I—"

She slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sheldon, I know you aren't trying to, but when you talk like this, you are only arousing me further."

His eyebrow arched, reminding her oddly of Spock from the _Star Trek_ movies he kept making her watch. He removed her hand from his mouth and said, "Fascinating. Well, enough of that. I'm going to return to my room, shower, brush my teeth, and make a few phone calls. I'll need to adjust your plane ticket again so you can fly out with me on Thursday and alert the motel that you will not be checking out today. In the interim, you can contact the rental car place and your supervisor at work to let them know of the changes." He stared down at his watch. "Let's rendezvous back here in an hour. Then, we can have lunch, go purchase a suit for me, order flowers for Meemaw, and be at my mother's for dinner by 6 pm."

"Dinner at your mother's?" Amy repeated.

"Yes. We're expected tonight. All the family will be there. I'm afraid you'll be meeting my mother's side now. Unfortunately, there's no time to produce a proper family tree for you to memorize. So you'll just have to wing it. I would have told you earlier, but you hung up on my sister and kept making out with me. Now, if you will excuse me, the shower beckons."

Without waiting for a response, he left the room. Amy stared at the closed door and shook her head as she made a startling realization.

_Come death, love, or sex, Sheldon Cooper is never going to stop being Sheldon Cooper._

She grinned. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

— —

Compared to the drama of the morning, the afternoon was a breeze. They lunched at the Big Boy where they happily debated the optimum bun-to-meat ratio needed to make the best-tasting burger as well as whether barbecue sauce was better on the burger or on the side.

They continued their discussion on the way to the mall. Sheldon begged her to browse with him in a train store, which she agreed to under the proviso that they hold hands while they walked. Strangely enough, Sheldon readily agreed.

Unfortunately, his compliant attitude did not continue into the suit store. Sheldon immediately spied an all-black corduroy suit with a maroon tie. When he came out from the changing room wearing it, Amy thought he looked especially adorable. Still, she knew it wasn't appropriate for a funeral. Sheldon, however, refused to be swayed from purchasing it.

"This fabric doesn't make my skin itch, Amy. I can't be itchy during Meemaw's funeral."

"What will your mother say?"

Sheldon eyed his reflection in the mirror. "I'll tell her you said I look adorable and I do." He preened and struck a GQ-style pose. "I look like the tenth Dr. Who, only smarter."

Amy couldn't help but smile at his antics even as she contemplated the best way to deal with this. No matter how handsome he looked, he couldn't go to his Meemaw's funeral dressed like that. A plan finally in mind, she walked over to a rack of ordinary black suits. "You know," she said, picking one out and holding it up for him to see. "If you wore this, you'd look like the Flash."

Sheldon turned away from the mirror to look at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would the Flash ever wear a black suit?"

"Funeral?" Amy replied, hoping the answer didn't sound as silly to him as it did to her.

He considered this for a moment before nodding. "You're right. Give it here."

After numerous compliments on Amy's part and an agreement that Sheldon could buy the other suit to wear once they returned to Pasadena, the couple finally settled on the plain black suit with a two-toned gray tie.

The visit to the florist proved even easier. Sheldon chose a large arrangement of daisies in red, pink and orange and asked to have them delivered to the funeral home by tomorrow.

"How beautiful, Sheldon," Amy said. "I never considered daisies for a funeral."

"They're Meemaw's favorite. Appropriate or not, it's what she's getting."

Amy smiled and patted him on the shoulder before turning back to the floral book in front of her. "Let's see if I can find something equally stunning. Did she have another favorite kind of flower?"

Sheldon eyed her curiously. "Why would you need to send flowers, too?"

"It's customary to send flowers when a loved one has died. I know I didn't know Meemaw as long as you, but she still meant a lot to me. I'd like to show that," Amy explained.

"No, you misunderstand," Sheldon said. "I mean why would you send another order of flowers? The daisies are from both of us."

Amy's hand came up to cover her throat. "Really?" she murmured, feeling a little faint with happiness.

"Of course. Isn't it customary for a couple to send one arrangement of flowers together?"

Instead of answering, Amy gave him a quick peck on the cheek for being so undeniably sweet.

Sheldon flustered and looked over his shoulder at the clerk ringing up his order to see if she had noticed. Finally, he twisted back around and hissed, "Amy, just because our relationship has become more romantic in nature and I've allowed you to turn me into your kissing boy in private does not mean I'm open to putting our bedroom affairs in the public spotlight."

_Bedroom affairs?_ _Here's hoping._ Amy hid her smile behind her hand and tried to look properly contrite. "You're right. I will try to comport myself better in the future. My apologies."

Sheldon nodded and went to pay the bill. They finally left the florist and arrived on Mary Cooper's doorstep right on time. Sheldon's mother was pleased to see them, and, after long hugs, she dragged them inside to her house. The living room and dining room were crammed with relatives—a few Amy knew, but most she didn't. Sheldon tensed up the second they crossed the threshold. She imagined that had to do with the fact that this was the first time they were entering the house knowing Meemaw wouldn't be here. Amy remembered how hard it was to go home after her own father's funeral. The house had seemed so empty, as if all of the life was gone out of it as well.

She reached down and took Sheldon's hand. He allowed it as they were brought in front of a bottle blonde woman who looked to be in her fifties. Her blue eyes and relaxed smile marked her as Meemaw's daughter.

"This is my sister Ruth," Mary said. "Ruth, this is Sheldon's girlfriend, Amy Fowler."

"Pleased to meet you, honey," Ruth said, introducing a trio of rail-thin daughters named Hannah, Hazel, and Ginny. Hannah and Hazel, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, were clearly twins from their identical faces, brown hair, and mannerisms. Ginny, who looked to be around Sheldon's age, was blonde like her mother and seemed less than thrilled to be here.

"It's very nice to meet you all as well," Amy said, squeezing her boyfriend's hand to remind him to speak.

"Hello," he said.

Ginny eyed the two of them in disbelief. "I thought it was just a joke. You actually have a girlfriend, Shelly?"

"Ginny, be nice. I raised you better than that," Ruth scolded, shushing her daughter. However, it was clear from the older woman's inquisitive expression that she was thinking the same thing.

"There's a lid for every pot," Mary said, triumphantly.

Amy remembered Penny saying much the same thing just the other day and smiled. It certainly made sense in her and Sheldon's case. They were, after all, brought together based upon mathematical algorithms from a dating site. As much as her boyfriend might decry the science behind the site as pure hokum, it had matched them.

"If you all will excuse me, I'm thirsty," Sheldon said, leaving to go into the kitchen.

Amy wanted to follow, but Mary had other ideas. She introduced Ruth's husband, Jim, and her bearded younger brother, Stumpy. Stumpy's real name was Edward, but no one called him that due to the fact that he'd lost most of his right arm in an unfortunate wood chipper incident years ago. Unlike Ruth, Stumpy lived in Galveston and his accident had not stopped him from marrying and divorcing three times and having a whopping six children. Apparently, however, he was an affable fellow because each of his wives were there laughing and cutting up with him—including his current wife of three months, Cheryl. Then, there was the family of Mary's older brother, Carl, who had died many years ago from some kind of bizarre badger incident. Amy met his widow, Sylvia and their son Carl Jr.

Once the introductions had ended, every one wandered off except for Ginny, Mary and Ruth.

"Amy, are you a science geek like Sheldon?" Ginny bluntly asked.

Amy sighed, more than a little tired of meeting less-than-pleasant relatives. "Indeed I am. I merely study a different field. I am a neurobiologist while Sheldon is a theoretic physicist. How about you? What do you do?"

Ruth jumped in to answer. "Ginny's back at home while she finishes up her degree in English. Once she's done, she'll be the first to graduate from college on her daddy's side of the family."

"Impressive," Amy complimented. The younger woman obviously thought her foray into education somehow made her important as she straightened her shoulders and arched her chin at Amy as if to say _what do you think about that?_

Amy withheld an eye-roll at the idea of a mere liberal arts degree. After all, higher education—no matter the subject—should always be celebrated. "And what will you be doing with your degree when you're finished? Teach?"

"God, no. I'll leave that to nerds like you," she scoffed.

"Ginny, stop being rude," Ruth said. "I know you didn't want to come, but you're not going to take it out on innocent people. Either be nice or be silent."

Her mother's chastisement may have shut her up, but it was clear from the malevolence in Ginny's expression that she'd liked the target she found and would continue to shoot as she saw fit.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, looking anything but. "I tend to say whatever is in my mind without thinking about it first. I didn't mean any harm, Amy. I think you and Sheldon make a cute couple … you know, for what you are."

As Amy wasn't interested in dealing with this for the rest of the week, she took matters into her own hands. "Of course. Thank you. So, you live at home with your mother? Aren't you the same age as Sheldon?"

Sheldon's cousin colored. Her mother answered instead, "Actually, she's a year older."

With a smirk reminiscent of her own mother and nosy great-aunt Alda, Amy leaned forward and asked, "And do you have a boyfriend, Ginny?"

"Nope, she doesn't," Mary replied with a wide smile. "He dumped her. Isn't that right, Ginny?"

"I think I'll go see what Hannah and Hazel are up to," Ginny muttered, heading off without waiting to be excused.

Amy felt a little guilty for what she'd done and turned to apologize to the younger woman's mother. But Ruth wouldn't have it.

"It's about time that girl met her match. She's got too much mouth for her own good," Ruth said before turning to her sister and pointing at Amy. "You better not let this one get away, Mary. You'll never get a better daughter-in-law than her."

Mary nodded. "Don't I know it. I got half the church praying as we speak. But you know Sheldon's gonna be stubborn."

Amy felt like she was back with her own family. All that was missing was her mother announcing to the room that Amy's reproductive eggs weren't getting any younger. Evidently, discussing an adult child's romantic life happened no matter who or where you were. Before she could protest, she saw Sheldon out of the corner of her eye. He zipped through the crowd and towards the back bedrooms. Without needing to ask, Amy knew where he was going.

"Excuse me," she said to the ladies in front of her. "I see someone with whom I need to speak."

They barely heard her as they were now knee-deep gossiping about some mutual acquaintance from their childhood whose daughter had ended up pregnant by a plumber while the son-in-law was away in Iraq. Amy pressed through the crowd and had almost made it to the hallway when she was stopped by Missy.

"There you are. Where have you been?" Missy gave a quick hug.

"We've been here for the last hour, but your mother wanted me to meet her siblings and their children."

Missy winced. "Let me go ahead and apologize for Ginny. She can be a witch with a capital 'B'. Mom said it's because she's had too much disappointment in life. I think it's because she hasn't been getting enough of something else—if you know what I mean. She's named after Meemaw because she's the oldest girl, but, honestly, she's the least like her."

"It's fine. I'm sure I made quite an impression on her," Amy replied.

"Really?" Missy grinned. "That sounds promising. You can tell me all about it after I introduce you to my new fella. His name is Greg, and he's a mortician. Can you believe it? But, let me tell you, the second you see him, you forget all about where he works because that boy is hotter than a habanero pepper."

_Another boyfriend?_ "What happened to Riley?"

"Who? Oh, him. Honey, he was sweet and all, but dumber than wet cement. I got standards, you know."

"Can I meet this new man later? I need to go check on Sheldon."

"Sure, sure. By all means, go check on my brother. But if you think you're getting away without telling me the backstory on what's been going on between you two, you've got another think coming."

Amy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"One minute, he's telling Mom that you're going home and the two of you are over. The next, he's telling me you 'belong with him' and you're suddenly staying for the funeral and still his girlfriend. I smell Grade-A gossip there, young lady. Spill."

Amy felt her cheeks heat in a blush. There was no way she was telling Missy what had happened. Sheldon would be furious. She might tell Penny as Penny was her best friend and that was expected, but Sheldon's sister? _Oh no._ "It was all a misunderstanding. We had a conversation and worked it out. There's nothing to tell."

Missy's eyebrow arched defiantly. "Uh huh. You lie about as well as Shelly does. I'm gonna find out, you know, even if I have to twist my brother's acorns to do it."

Amy flinched at the mental image of that. "Please don't. I like his acorns the way they are."

Missy immediately laughed. The blush in Amy's cheeks grew hotter as what she had said sunk in. "I meant—I didn't mean to—"

Missy held up a hand. "It's quite all right. I didn't need to know that, but it's to be expected. You're both young and it's evident from the way you can't keep your eyes off each other."

"No," Amy argued, "you don't understand. We—"

"Save it, honey. The more you protest, the deeper you dig the hole. I thought you wanted to go check on Sheldon. Or is that code for something? You guys planning on having a quickie in my mom's house? Good luck with that. Mom's like a guard dog when it comes to sex under her roof. Apparently, if she isn't getting any, nobody is."

"What?" Amy squawked.

"You know what? It's fine. Go on ahead. Sheldon probably needs it. Lord knows, that boy is wound tighter than a top. Don't worry, though," Missy said with a quick wink. "I'll keep a watch out for you."

"What? No! That's not what I meant at all. I would never—" Amy broke off when Missy laughed so hard she had to hold her sides. Then, as an understanding of what was truly going on here dawned, Amy pursed her lips in irritation. "You're kidding, aren't you?"

Missy nodded, tears streaming down her face as her mirth continued. "You should have seen your face. It was priceless. Oh my goodness." She pressed a hand to her chest. "With all that's happened in the last two days, I needed to laugh like that. Thank you. Promise me you won't go anywhere, Amy Fowler. If Sheldon's a jerk, tell me. I'll take care of it. But whatever you do, don't you dare break up with him."

"I should tell him what you just did to me and let him loose after you," Amy threatened.

Missy paled. "Don't you dare. He'd tell Mom."

Amy grinned. "Exactly. Two people can play this game."

"Oh, go on with you," Missy said with a large eye roll. "He's in his old bedroom. I saw him sneak back there."

"I know. We'll talk later, and you can introduce me to Gary."

"His name is Greg," Missy corrected.

"Yeah," Amy said, thinking that at the rate Missy changed boyfriends, it really didn't matter if she had to man's name right. "We'll talk about that, too."

With a pat on her shoulder, Amy walked down the hallway to Sheldon's old room. _Meemaw's room. _The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it aside and entered without knocking. Sheldon, who was sitting on the side of the made bed, looked lost.

Without a word, she went over and eased down next to him. They remained this way for a long while, neither saying anything. He stared off into the distance, his hands clenched in his lap, seemingly unaware that she was even there. The longer the silence continued, the more uneasy she became. Should she leave? Was she unwelcome? _Is my being here making it worse?_ Her old friend, insecurity, reared its ugly head. _It's obvious he wants me to leave. I should just go. He came back here for privacy, and here I am forcing my presence on him. _

Just as she was about to rise from the bed, Sheldon did something totally unexpected, something that would have shocked her on any other occasion. He reached over and, weaving their fingers together, pulled her hand onto his knee. Then, the incessant recriminations inside her mind ceased. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, recognizing this for what it was.

This was Sheldon_ … trying._


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_"A fear of heights is illogical. A fear of falling, on the other hand, is prudent and evolutionary."__  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 2)**__  
__"The Friendship Algorithm"_

"Want to talk about it?"

Sheldon took a long time to reply. Just when she thought he wouldn't answer at all, he said, "It won't change anything. Meemaw's dead, and we'll never see her again—no matter what my mother would like to believe. The sooner I make my peace with that, the better off I will be."

This sentiment settled between them. More moments passed in silence.

"What makes you think you'll never see your grandmother again?" Amy finally asked.

"Are you talking about some clandestine meeting in the afterlife?" Sheldon frowned at her. "Amy, I thought you agreed with me that organized religion is nothing more than claptrap and codswallop based on archaic rituals and man's fear of death and the unknown."

"I do. However, as a scientist I believe in keeping an open mind. Don't you?"

"Always."

She nodded. "Then, as the existence of God has never scientifically been disproven, wouldn't it stand to reason that a higher power might, in fact, exist? And, if this power—or God as it is commonly known—does exist, wouldn't it also stand to reason that a concept of heaven would exist as well? Moreover, if both God and heaven exist, wouldn't it further stand to reason that you could one day be reunited there with Meemaw?"

Sheldon pondered this for a while before turning to look at her. "I see what you just did there. Thank you, Amy," he said. "And, while I will continue to reject the existence of God without substantiated proof, a double-blind study, and assiduous analysis, I will admit that I wouldn't mind being wrong about this one—if for no other reason than to see Meemaw again."

He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. Nothing more was said. But, then again, nothing more needed to be said.

— —

After a long and lengthy family dinner, they returned to the motel, exhausted. Sheldon walked Amy to her room, thanked her again for all of her help, and reminded her of their scheduled meeting time for breakfast in the morning. Then, they each retired to their separate rooms.

After a long, hot shower, Amy was ready to turn in for the night. She cranked up the air conditioner and was climbing between the sheets when three sharp raps hit the adjoining door. Pulling on her favorite gray robe, she went over to the door and swung it open to find Sheldon dressed in his Monday pajamas and matching robe.

"Glad to see you're still prepared for emergencies, Amy," he complimented.

"Thank you," she said, hoping this wasn't something he was going to do all night. She was too tired for that kind of thing right now. "Was there something else you needed?"

Sheldon shifted his feet nervously back and forth. "I was thinking. It might behoove us to leave this door open between us in case you happen to have another one of your night terror episodes. Then, I could get to you straight away to offer comfort."

"That sounds acceptable. Thank you for being so considerate of my needs, Sheldon."

He shrugged. "I'm your boyfriend. It's my job."

Amy thought he would now return to his bed. Instead, he stepped fully inside her room, fiddling with the tie of his robe. She backed up, taking a seat on the side of the bed. Clearly, he wanted something else from her, but what that something was, she couldn't begin to hazard a guess.

"You know, Amy, I could also add a night terrors clause to the relationship agreement when I make the other adjustments."

"Other adjustments?"

"Yes. Don't you remember? I'm supposed to add a cuddling section and, since you apparently have the power to transform me into a make-out machine without provocation, I should definitely add something about that as well."

_Make-out machine?_ Amy smirked. If that was what he really thought, he was taking the development surprisingly well. "I agree. Will you be including something about the now full romantic tilt of our relationship?"

"Sure. We should arrange some time to meet when we return to Pasadena to hammer out the details. It's important we come to an agreement on the specific parameters, procedures, and processes that will need to be established for us to move forward."

Amy tilted her head questioningly. "Really? Such as?"

"Well," he toyed with the belt of his robe again, "for example, if I were to actually fall in love with you—and I'm not saying that I have currently done so or am planning to do so in the near future—what would that equate to in terms of our relationship?"

"What do you mean?"

Sheldon cleared his throat, visibly nervous to even be talking about this. Amy took pity on him and asked, "You seem parched, Sheldon. Would you care for a Yoo-hoo?"

"Yes, please," he gasped, like a drowning man clutching at a life preserver.

She fetched the requested beverage and ushered him into one of the seats adjacent to the bed. Once he was comfortable, she settled on the side of the bed nearest to him. "You were saying?"

He clumsily guzzled down most of his drink before answering. "I mean, if I were to tell you I love you …" He gulped at the mere notion. "What would you expect from me then? Coitus every night? Living together? Poetry? Flowers? Matching tattoos? A proposal of marriage? Children?"

Amy was glad she was sitting down because this was quite a doozy. She decided to start with the most obvious question. "Do you love me?"

He shot to his feet. "I didn't say that," he yelped. "I'm just saying—hypothetically—if I did, what would you expect from me?"

"I see." Amy deliberately took time to consider this so he would relax again. When he resumed sitting, he perched on the edge of his chair like he was awaiting the results on his first PhD dissertation. She angled her body towards him and said, "While flowers on special occasions would be nice, I've never been a fan of amateur poetry. Moreover, I don't think tattoos are hygienic or befitting of our positions in the scientific community. We're scientists, not hippies."

His eyes narrowed and leaned forward, as if he were a lawyer interrogating a witness. "But what about the other things? Would you require that I propose or that we live together?"

She winced, remembering not too long ago when she'd done nearly that. It wasn't one of her best moments. She'd known he wasn't ready for it, but her own frustration over the lack of actual progress in their relationship at the time had left her more than a little desperate.

"No," she said, "I would never require that." She bit her lip, asking something she'd longed to ask for a while now. "Sheldon, what do you see for our future? Do you want to marry me?"

"I don't know. I never considered marrying anyone. I've always been quite content on my own. But, then you came into my life and … things … changed. Now, I don't know anything anymore." He let out a low moan of weariness. "Amy, please just tell me what you expect so I know what I'm getting into—if I should choose to get into it, that is."

Amy sighed. He was in love with her and more than aware of it. Yet, he was letting fear of the unknown keep him from telling her. "Sheldon, I love you. To say that I wouldn't want to marry you or live with you would be a lie. But, would I expect you to propose the second you tell me you love me? No. I would be happy to have our relationship merely continue on its present trajectory. As for marriage, children and the rest of it, we can decide on those things as we get to them. I'm in no rush."

"But what about your career?" he pressed. "Would you really want to give all that up to be my wife and the mother of my children—even if it all took place years down the road?"

Amy puckered her brow. _Where is he getting this?_ "Why would I need to give up anything? Surely you're not so antediluvian as to expect your wife to do nothing more than cook, clean the house and bear your children?"

"No! I believe men and women are equally capable of making achievements in any area that they choose." He buried his face in his hands with a frustrated groan. "I'm not explaining this very well." He looked up at her again, despair etched into the lines around his eyes. "Amy, I've aspired to win the Nobel Prize ever since the day I found out it existed. It is what I was born to do. But, people have big dreams all the time. They spend years working towards those dreams and then—BANG—one day they fall in love and all those dreams fall the wayside. I've seen it happen over and over again. But, I'm not like that. I won't give up the Nobel Prize to fall in love. Not even for you."

It all came back to Amy in a flash. _His conversation with Meemaw that day in the kitchen. Of course._ She scooted closer to him and took his hand in hers. It all made sense now.

"You're not the only one with dreams, Sheldon Cooper. I plan to be one of the world's leading neurobiologists before it's all over with. I might even end up with a Nobel Prize of my own. I have no plans to give up on my dreams any more than I'd demand you to give up on yours. All I would expect from you is to be a partner in our marriage. This includes you having equal responsibility in everything from household chores to working to support our various career ambitions. When we do have children, we could put them in daycare while we both work and spend each evening with them. If one of us had to work later, the other would step in. This is what other couples do. It's what we could do as well. We're very intelligent. Together, we'd be unstoppable. There is no need to give up anything. We can have it all."

"And if the choice should ever come down between my dream and yours? What then?" He shook his head and pulled away. "I'm selfish, Amy. I won't sacrifice for you. Not when it comes to this. I know you. You'll give up everything for me, and then you'll end up hating me." He stared at the carpet. "I couldn't bear that."

Amy didn't know what to say to make this better. He'd obviously given this a great deal of thought. Between this and his belief that he was mentally incapable of handling love, she was emotionally drained trying to come up with all the answers—and that's what he was expecting from her.

She crept closer, touching his chin so he'd look at her. "I don't have all the answers, Sheldon. No one does. All I do know is that I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. But, if you don't want to do the same with me, I won't force you. I want you to achieve your dreams, and I will do all I can to support you, but any real relationship has sacrifices on both sides. Ours should be no different. I'll expect you to support me in my endeavors just as much as I support you. I don't want to be your assistant. I want to be your partner. I don't want to be your helper. I want to be your lover. I don't want to just be your spouse. I want to be the love of your life." She inhaled deeply, trying to gather her courage to finish this. "So, in answer to your original question, I say this: When you're finally ready to admit you're in love with me, I expect us to have all the facets of a true romantic relationship. The give and the take, the misunderstandings and the make-ups, and the tragedies and the triumphs—all of it. Can you give me that?"

She dropped her hand away from him and sat back on the bed, unsure of what he would say or what would happen if he didn't agree. She couldn't go back, that was sure. They had progressed so far and she'd held his hand the whole way. But, she couldn't do it this time. No, this time, he had to do it by himself. Amy had met him three years ago, little more than a skittish, sheltered girl. But, now, she was a fully grown woman. It was time for Sheldon to finish growing up as well. She could only sit here and hope he had the courage to do it.

She could almost see the gears in his mind working. He was staring off in the distance, almost as if he were watching a movie play on the far wall. Maybe he was seeing their future together; maybe he was making a mental pro/con list. Amy didn't know. But, the longer she sat here waiting for an answer, the more worried she got.

At last, when he stopped doing whatever he was doing, he calmly turned to her. "Yes," he said, matter-of-factly. "I can give you that." Sheldon got to his feet, all business. Amy, meanwhile, was so overwhelmed with happiness that she didn't think she could even remember her name. "Now, let's move on to one final item before we retire for the evening."

She was still too choked up to answer, but apparently, Sheldon didn't need her verbal agreement to continue.

"Amy," he said, pacing in front of her with the aplomb of a military general issuing orders, "certain areas of our relationship are advancing faster than others. As with anything else, I believe it is better to progress forward at a strategic tempo instead of rushing into something willy-nilly. More importantly, I refuse to allow my endocrine system to make decisions for me. Therefore, I propose that we spend this evening utilizing the same bed."

Amy had never been a fainter before, but she was seriously considering becoming one now. _Does he mean what I think he means?_ She gulped. "Sheldon, are you saying you want to sleep with me?"

He stopped pacing to stare at her. "I don't _want_ to. I just think, for the betterment of our relationship, it would behoove us to get used to lying next to each other while we rest. It will be a difficult adjustment, I know. But, the road to coitus is paved with many hard things."

"Pun intended?" she asked.

Sheldon's brow furrowed. "What pun?"

"Never mind," she said, getting to her feet. "My bed or yours?"

"Your choice. If I'm going to start sacrificing, I choose this instance. That way, it'll be your turn next time. But before we do this, you should understand that I mean co-sleeping only. You will remain on your side, and I shall remain on mine. I don't care how much you love me. My body—for the time being—is not your wonderland."

She rolled her eyes. "Let me get my pillow, and we'll sleep in your room."

In the end, it took twenty minutes and a tape measure before they were settled down. The tape measure was so Sheldon could divide the bed evenly to make sure they each had an equal amount of space to sleep on. They reposed on their respective sides, but Amy couldn't relax or feel a shred of her earlier exhaustion. She was too excited to be sleeping with her boyfriend, something she'd dreamed about for the last two years.

_Not exactly like this_, she thought. _But, close enough._

It was clear from his little hiccups of nervous breathing that Sheldon was having equal issues finding his REM cycle. She flipped on her side and looked over at him. Even in the dark without her glasses, the glow from the illuminated alarm clock allowed her to see that he was flat on his back, his hands folded over his chest like he was imitating a vampire. She wasn't sure how he could sleep like that.

Even though she was looking at him and she knew he was aware of it, he kept his gaze firmly on the ceiling.

"Sheldon?" she whispered.

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to shut my mind off enough to sleep," he answered, keeping his eyes firmly staring upward. "I'd use kohlinar, but you'd only get angry and I don't wish to have another argument with you over science fiction. Besides," he sighed, "the technique doesn't seem to work anymore."

"Will you at least look at me when you speak to me?"

"No."

"No? You're going to pretend I'm not here?"

He exhaled, evidently annoyed. "Amy, you're mere inches away from me. I couldn't pretend you weren't here if I tried. Every breath I take in brings with it the intoxicating scent of your dandruff shampoo. Every movement you make to get comfortable brings with it the elicit memory of all we have done in this very bed. The warmth of your body heat mingling with mine under these covers brings with it a irrational desire for me to touch you to see if your skin is really as soft as I remember it. Believe me, I can't look at you. If I look at you, I'll forget all my careful plans and the fact that I'm a gentleman and I will—in the words of the late Marvin Gaye—'get it on' with you."

"OK."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "OK? 'OK' she says," he complained to the ceiling. "Amy, we're not animals. We can't just engage in intercourse without meticulous preparation. What about contraception? Have you thought about that in your race to have your way with me? That kind of lack of forethought is where unwanted pregnancies come from. Besides, my mother would kill me if I got you with child out of wedlock. I refuse to die for one night of carnal pleasure."

"I'm on the pill."

Sheldon had to stare at her then. He was too astonished to stop himself. "What? When?"

"I got on the pill a few months after I became besties with Penny. She said it would regulate my cycle so that I wouldn't have to wear pads all the time. She was right. Even taking out the monthly cost of my prescription, I have still generated an overall savings of $300 a year by not having to buy as many feminine hygiene products." She smiled at him.

He smiled back and leaned closer to her. Then, seeming to realize what he was doing, he jerked his attention back to the ceiling. "Nevertheless, we should be careful and use condoms _and_ the pill just to be safe."

Amy sighed in disappointment, knowing she wasn't going to budge him on this. _Looks like I'm not getting lucky tonight._ "Yeah, and there is no way you have condoms." _But I'm certainly buying some before we come back here tomorrow night. That you can count on, buddy._

"Oh, I have condoms," he casually announced.

"You do?" she asked, unconsciously moving nearer to him.

Sheldon shifted away from her just as quickly. "That doesn't mean we're using them tonight. Control yourself, woman."

She propped her head up on her arm. "Sheldon, why do you have condoms in your wallet? It was my impression that you're as much a virgin at coitus as I am."

"Oh, I am. But, my mother wasn't the only one who required promises from me before I left Galveston for Pasadena. My father made me swear to keep two condoms in my wallet at all times. He said it was something he'd wished his own father had made him do. And, even though he's passed on, I've kept my word." He sounded so proud of himself that she couldn't help but grin.

"So, you've had the same two condoms in your wallet since you moved to California?" She gave a low laugh at the mental image of him going about his normal routine doing just that. Laundry night—condoms in his pocket. Pondering equations on his whiteboard at work—condoms in his pocket. Playing video games—condoms in his pocket.

"No, I change them out every month."

"Because the structural integrity of laytex wanes over time?"

"No, because the packaging wrinkles after about thirty days and I can't have something that unkempt-looking in my wallet."

"Of course," she replied. _Date night with me—condoms in his pocket._ She kicked the covers away, suddenly too hot to need them. "So, I'm on the pill and you have two condoms in your wallet. Right now. On your bedside table. Right there."

"Amy, no," Sheldon ordered. "Control yourself. Remember, you're civilized. Coitus should be scheduled and planned for the benefit of all parties. Besides, I haven't done the necessary research to make sure that you'd be suitably satisfied. I have started, but am in no way finished. But, what I have learned so far has proved moderately interesting. Did you know, the main reason women bleed during their first attempt at intercourse is not because of the tearing of their hymens, but because their vaginas were not properly lubricated before penetration? Foreplay is essential."

She fell back on the bed, covering her face with her hands. "Sheldon, if you don't stop talking like that, I'm going to forget that you've already said 'no' and seduce you."

"All seductions should likewise be planned by both parties—"

She sat up and moved towards him, intent on delivering on her threat. His mouth instantly shut with the click of teeth. He flipped onto his side, presenting his back to her. "Good night, Amy," he said.

Watching him for a little bit, she sighed and tried to calm down her libido. She turned over as well, just so she didn't have to look at him. "Goodnight, Sheldon. Oh, and just so you know, if I ever seduce you, I won't tell you about it in advance. I'm simply going to do it."

There was a jolt of alarm from his end of the bed. She grinned and fluffed her pillow under her head and tried to sleep.

An hour later, she was still awake listening to his deep, even breathing. She was also freezing to death. The combined nature of two running air conditioners in two rooms as well as the fact that the connecting door was still ajar meant that the air around the bed had become cold enough to double as a cryogenics lab. She considered getting up to turn something off, but realized, with the heat wave currently bearing down on Texas, it would only make the morning unbearable.

She looked over at Sheldon, who was huddled under most of the covers. The man was a veritable furnace. A plan in mind, Amy slowly scooted under the covers and closer to him, luxuriating in the irresistible warmth radiating from his lanky body. Careful not to touch him, she buried one arm under her pillow while the other rested on her hip. She pulled her knees up towards her stomach and tried to get comfortable. The cocooning warmth had her drowsy in no time. So, with a lusty yawn, she relaxed and, at long last, fell into a deep sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**_  
_

_"I always thought if I were enslaved, it would be by an advanced species from another planet. Not some hotsie-totsie from Glendale."__  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 5)**__  
__"The Weekend Vortex"_

She woke up sprawled on top of him.

Her cheek rested on his shoulder, one arm was wound around his chest and one leg was flung across his waist. For Sheldon's part, he didn't seem to mind. In fact, from the feel of things, his hand covered her thigh, effectively holding it in place. Somewhere in the night, they'd kicked the blankets off and only a sheet covered them.

Sheldon was still asleep, but parts of him were definitely up. Amy, naturally, had read about the phenomenon of morning erections in men before, but had never thought to be trapped by one. Yet, here she was with her leg swung over her boyfriend's midsection and unable to move it for fear of accidentally whacking his penis.

_Sheldon will never sleep with me again if I do that._

Gingerly, she pulled the sheet away from them to examine the situation. _Yep_, _just as I thought. I'm stuck._ Her eyes locked on the rigid organ tenting the front of his pajama pants. She'd seen male genitalia before, but never like this. _I had that in my hand_, she thought. _Oh my._ At the time, it hadn't seemed so … enormous. A slow throb started in her nether regions.

Of course, without a proper, unclothed inspection, she wouldn't know his size for sure. _Maybe I could just_ … Amy banished the idea before it could even be completed. She was absolutely sure Sheldon would not appreciate waking up to that. _No doubt, he'd lock himself in the bathroom and refuse to speak to me again._

She gave a frustrated sigh and tried to figure out a way to get off of her boyfriend before he woke up and freaked out. There would be time to think about his penis later. _And, with any luck, I'll get to see it tonight_, she promised herself. Just as she started to push his hand from her thigh and gently lift her leg out of the way, the owner of said penis groaned and tightened his grip. He turned towards her, burrowing into her body like an animal seeking warmth.

"Amy," he sighed, his hand sliding from her thigh to caress and clench her bottom.

Amy knew she should stop him. After all, he clearly wasn't awake yet. But, she forgot all about that the second his groin fitted itself over her throbbing center. Sheldon's nose and lips nuzzled against her throat as his hands fondled her buttocks. When he rubbed lusciously against her, all thoughts of stopping this flew out the proverbial window. She loved him. He loved her—whether he was ready to admit it or not. Making love was the next logical step, and she was tired of pretending it wasn't.

More than that, she was tired of ignoring her need for him.

Running her hands up under his pajama top and undershirt, she stroked his back and pressed long, languid kisses along his neck. He ground his pelvis against her again. The sweet friction created had them both moaning in pleasure. She rolled and brought him with her. Her hands left his back and drifted down to grab his shapely derriere so she could urge him even closer.

It was the butt-grabbing that woke him up—or at least that was what she surmised when he popped up and stared down at her, aghast.

"Amy," he said, "what is going on? Is this another dream?"

_Another dream?_ She smiled, delirious with the idea that he'd been dreaming about her. About _this_ with her. Amy didn't answer him. He was a smart boy. He'd figure it out. She was too busy working the buttons of his shirt apart.

"Not a dream, Sheldon," he told himself. "Not a dream. Danger. Danger. Danger. Amy, please," he pleaded, as she eased her hands back below his undershirt to caress his chest. "We can't. My plans … the research—" He scrunched his eyes tight as she shoved the shirt upward and pressed heated kisses over his pecks.

Feeling all of her seductive power, Amy flicked a tongue around his nipple before taking it into the moist heat of her mouth.

"Guh!" Sheldon moaned, his body going rigid against her.

He didn't protest when she pulled away to force the pajama top down his arms. However, he seemed to come back to himself when she tried to push the undershirt over his head.

"Amy, there is a five-step process to this—"

She reached up to give him a deep tongue kiss, using her nails to lightly scratch down his back. He _really_ liked that. She broke away to look up at him, admiring the way his blue eyes were so dilated with desire that they were nearly black.

"Don't worry," she soothed, now able to successfully work the undershirt up and over his head in one, quick motion. She tossed it away and stroked his naked chest. "I have no doubt we'll get through all the steps before this is over."

Sheldon swooped down to kiss her, massaging her mouth with his. He angled his head, taking her lower lip between his and lightly sucked like it was his favorite hard candy. Then, he released it and dove back in for another kiss. His hands likewise were employed scurrying up her sides to cover her breasts. He sighed against her mouth as he kneaded them in his hands.

"Yes, yes," she gasped and reached between them to stroke his penis through his pajama bottoms.

He shuddered. A flurry of activity on his part had her nightgown joining his shirts on the floor a few seconds later. Sheldon gazed down at her in that uniquely curious way of his—a way she now recognized was his look of love for her.

"Amy," he murmured, "my perfect Amy."

She'd never felt so beautiful before, so loved. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she added, "My Sheldon."

Amy was drunk on arousal and high on desire. She arched against Sheldon, begging him without words to kiss her breasts. His mouth pounced on her chest, feasting on her heated hills and teasing her nipples until she was almost blind with need.

"Amy," he pulled back, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

"But, what if I hurt you? I haven't done this before. I could … do it wrong. I don't want to disappoint you."

She smiled at him, loving how sweetly vulnerable he was. It only made her love him more. "The only way you could disappoint me is if you stopped. Please, I want you. I need you. Don't you want me?" The answer to that question was currently hard and pulsing against her vagina, but she still needed to hear him say it.

"Yes," he groaned. "I want you so badly. I may perish from it."

Amy wrapped her legs around his hips and ground against him, loving the delicious zings of ecstasy that washed through them both. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands. "Make love to me, Sheldon. _Now_."

Their lips met in a torrid storm of kisses. Amy's arms wound back around his neck. Her fingers stroked his neck and buried themselves within his hair. They kissed, again and again, tongues meeting to tango, lips breaking apart only to crash together again.

Sheldon trailed kisses down her jaw. When he took her earlobe between his teeth and lightly nibbled, she melted into a pile of womanly goo. _Thank you, eidetic memory_, she thought, caressing down his back to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and underwear. His rounded buttocks were in her hands moments later. She squeezed and manipulated his flesh, pleasing him while pressing his body further against hers. She pushed the fabric down, but it would only go so far.

"Sheldon," she whined, wanting him naked against her.

Without a word, he got off her, stood up, shoved the pants and underwear to his ankles and kicked the offending garments away. He returned to the bed, and Amy got her first real look at what he was working with. "Aesthetically pleasing" didn't adequately cover it. "Magnificent" and "stunning" seemed like a better fit.

"Oh, my," she said, sitting up to touch it. It felt hot and smooth beneath her fingers as she circled them around his shaft. She ran her thumb over the tip and used her other hand to cup his testicles.

"A-my," he said, eyes closed in rapture as his hips pumped unconsciously against her hand.

_It's time._ She released him, lay back on the bed, and opened herself up for him. "Come to me, lover," she hoarsely welcomed.

It wasn't until he'd divested her of her panties and positioned himself between her legs that she started having second thoughts. Something about having his naked, erect penis pressing against her swollen vagina made all of this startlingly real in a way it hadn't before. Then, there was the fact that Sheldon's "magnificent" penis was also quite substantial in size. _What if he does hurt me?_ She didn't dare share any of these concerns with her boyfriend, of course. He would stop immediately, and they might never get back to this point.

_Buck up, Fowler. You want this, and he wouldn't dare hurt you._

Then, Sheldon kissed her, and she couldn't think anymore. She could only feel. His hands were on her thighs, urging them to widen and let him in; his mouth was on hers, licking and sucking her into a passion-induced frenzy; and her hardened nipples chafed against his chest hair, a delightfully freeing feeling. She nearly came off the bed when his hand slipped between their bodies to cover her womanhood. Without warning, his fingers probed her folds clumsily until she almost wanted to ask him what he was looking for. Then, he found it. Again and again, a finger stroked and pressed against the little nubbin of her clitoris. _Boy, did he find it._

Amy's head fell back against the pillows as her legs opened the rest of the way on their own. Her eyes closed against the electric current of sensations his caress was evoking. "Yes, yes, yes," she chanted, bucking against his hand.

The finger moved away and joined a few others in dipping within the opening of her vagina. She stiffened against this new invasion, even though she was moist enough down there for the sensation to not be unpleasant. It was still strange. He stroked the slick folds a few moments before he broke away.

"Don't stop," she begged, opening her eyes to stare at him. "Don't you dare stop."

"Condom," he gasped, grabbing his wallet off the bedside table and pulling out the square of plastic. He tossed the wallet away and sat back on his legs, peering down at the little package.

Amy groaned in frustration. "What are you doing?"

"Reading the directions. I've never put one on before."

She snatched it from him, shoved him onto his back, and ripped the condom open with her teeth. _Thank you, eighth grade sex ed. class_, she thought. She gripped his shaft, giving him a comforting stroke before she settled the condom on the very tip of his penis. Sheldon shuddered and thrust against her hand. She rolled the condom down, stroking along his pulsing, fully-encased penis to make sure it wasn't going anywhere.

Without warning, Sheldon's hips bowed off the bed and he let out a low, keening moan. His body convulsed a few times and then went still.

They both seemed too overwhelmed to speak at first. Amy looked from his penis up to his drooping eyelids, sagging mouth, and overall dazed expression.

"Did you just …?" she asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer.

Sheldon came back to himself with a hiss of alarm. He pulled a pillow over his face and groaned. Amy couldn't help it. She laughed. _To think I have the power to make him blow his top by just putting on a condom, _she thought with glee_. I _am_ a sexual goddess._

The humor relaxed her completely. All of her earlier worries about Sheldon hurting her evaporated. He would never hurt her. She would tell him what felt good and he would do the same. Lovemaking—especially the first time—was going to be an awkward experience filled with mistakes. Perfection would come with experience. The sooner they both accepted that, the better they would both be.

Amy, for her part, had accepted it. The fact that he boyfriend had rolled away from her and was sitting on the side of the bed with his back to her, however, indicated he had not.

"Sheldon, it's all right. I'm sorry for laughing."

He shook his head. "No, feel free to mock me. I'm clearly going to fail at this like I did at driving."

"You're not going to fail."

"I already did."

"Sheldon, this is completely normal. It takes a while for a male to build up a tolerance against the abundance of sensations in order to achieve the adequate stamina. You're no different than any other man."

He turned with a glare. "I'm a genius with an IQ of 187," he declared. "I assure you I am _vastly_ superior to other men." And, with that, he stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Amy sagged in defeat. She was sure she'd just ruined everything. _Way to go, Fowler. He'll never touch you again, now._

She pulled on her robe and walked over to the closed bathroom door. She could hear the faucet running. No doubt, Sheldon was getting cleaned up. Still, she was surprised he wasn't already in the shower. Amy knocked gently on the door.

"Sheldon? I'm sorry. I know you're not like other men. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with you." Silence. "Please, talk to me. I shouldn't have laughed. I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing because I was so nervous myself. It was a way to break the tension. Believe me, when you were … stroking … me the way you were, I almost orgasmed myself. I really liked it." Silence. "Please. I don't want this to stop all the progress we've made. I still want you. I still love you. Sex isn't going to be perfect our first time, and I think it's time we stopped thinking it is going to be. Men do this all the time. The average male—"

Amy jumped back as the door swung open unexpectedly.

"I've never been average," Sheldon announced, an inexplicable look of determination on his face. "Never have been, and never will be."

"No, you're not average," Amy agreed, stepping back warily.

He stalked her to the bed. She stopped when the back of her knees hit the mattress.

Sheldon touched her shoulders, running his hands purposefully down her arms. "The first time someone explained string theory to me, I didn't get it. But," he said, lightly kissing her mouth, "I mastered it the second time. Now, few people in this world understand it at the level I do."

He tugged her robe open, his eyes falling over her body like a painter surveying a landscape to see what he would capture on canvas. The robe was pushed down her shoulders and tossed away.

"Get on the bed, Amy," he ordered.

"Sheldon," she said, unsure of how to take him like this—but nonetheless liking it _a lot_. "We can try again later. You'll need a few minutes to regain your …"

He kissed her, grabbing her bottom as he jerked her close. He finally broke off. "We will try again, Amy Farrah Fowler, and I will succeed this time." He leaned in with an uncharacteristic leer that had her knees going weak. "I assure you. But, first, you and I have some business to finish. I owe you an orgasm, and I plan to see it delivered."

"Sheldon!" she screeched, never having thought she would see him talking like this. "What's gotten in to you?"

He gave her a light shove, watching with a grin of satisfaction as she flopped back against the bed. "You should know me by now, Amy. You said my stroking you before nearly had you finding release. Well," he shrugged and climbed on the bed to join her, "I _always _finish what I start."

**A/N: I know. I know. How could I end things there? Well, the only answer I can give you is that this is the Shamy we're talking about. This is **_**years**_** of waiting, wanting, needing, kohlinar-practicing, urging, hoping, and sexual tension we've been dealing with. You cannot contain that kind of sexy time in one, mere chapter.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"I am the sword master!"_  
__**Howard Wolowitz (TBBT Season 5)**__  
__"The Fuzzy Boots Collorary"_

"It's clear that I have given you too much power in this relationship."

Amy's eyes widened as she heard the same words she'd used against him two days ago suddenly directed at herself.

"Now that I'm in charge," he continued, his eyes wandering lazily over her body. "There are rules. Rule one: You don't touch me until this is over. The only one allowed to touch anyone is me. Got it?"

"Sheldon," she beckoned, reaching out for him.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the bed as he bent over her. "I can't think when you touch me. We are doing this my way. I'll tie you down if need be."

The mere thought of that had her on the brink of orgasm.

"Rule two," he continued. "You do as I say. No matter what."

She nodded, ready to explode from wanting him. She'd agree to anything at this point.

"Rule three: You tell me immediately if I hurt you or if something is unpleasant. Otherwise, I can touch wherever I like."

Sheldon barely waited for her agreement before he settled over her again. He leaned down, kissed her lips lightly, and moved down her cheek until he had her earlobe in his mouth again. He gave it a quick, teasing nip before swirling his tongue against the pulse point below her ear.

She shuddered under him.

"Fascinating," he whispered and swirled again.

Another shudder followed. If his hands hadn't still been keeping her wrists restrained, she would have wrapped her arms around him. Amy wanted so badly to touch him, but Sheldon wasn't allowing that. And, honestly, it only aroused her further. He blazed a path of kisses along her neck, pausing at the little hollow where her neck blended into her chest to give her a quick lap of his tongue.

She moaned as he kissed, nibbled and licked his way across her collar bone, over her chest and stopped at the very tops of her bosoms. She arched her back and heaved the breasts upward, offering them to him almost in supplication.

Sheldon paused, released one of her hands to cup and almost weigh one breast. He lightly pinched the nipple, grinning as it puckered and pouted beneath his ministrations. He did the same with her other breast, his gaze darted up to her to gauge every reaction. Her breathing accelerated as he leaned down to circle her breast in kisses, nearing the nipple each time, but never touching it with his mouth.

"Sheldon, please," she pleaded, reaching out again.

He slammed her hand back down on the bed and held it firm. "No breaking the rules," he declared, pulling his mouth away from her.

"Sheldon, I swear, if you don't hurry up, I'm going to tie you to this bed and lick every inch of your skin until you are screaming with—"

His body jerked with desire. He closed his eyes, as if trying to quell the tide of emotion within him. Finally, when he seemed to have a hold on it, he gazed back down at her. "Interesting. It's not just the act of foreplay that increases sexual arousal. Talking can do this as well. Hmm," he said. He frowned a bit, like he was trying to think of something appropriate to say.

"You're going to try talking dirty?" she asked, with a laugh.

"Indeed." He planted his mouth back against her ear. "About one percent of women can achieve orgasm solely through breast stimulation," he whispered. His hand reached out and cradled her breast again, fondling it. "Let's see if you're one of them."

She quivered, her legs falling open of their own accord.

Sheldon grinned, smugly. "Fascinating," he repeated, finally taking her areola in his mouth. He sucked and laved at it, all while his hands worked the other one. Amy didn't even need him to hold her hands down anymore. She did that all by herself.

He moved his mouth back and forth between her breasts, gorging on her flesh until she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"Hmm …" he pondered, "apparently not. Let's try something else, shall we? For both men and women, the heart rate averages 140 beats per minute at the point of orgasm." He'd barely finished speaking before pressing his mouth against the smooth skin between her breasts. He then kissed and nipped his way down her chest. "The maximum speed at which erotic sensations travel from skin to the brain has been clocked at 156 miles per hour."

His tongue flicked into her belly button, which she had never before considered an erogenous zone. But, apparently, it was. _Boy, was it._

And this is how it went. He would kiss, stroke or fondle her, breaking off every once and while to spout another sex fact. It shouldn't have worked as well as it did, but she'd always been a girl who loved to learn. Apparently, that was somehow linked to the pleasure center of her brain and, Sheldon—genius that he was—had clearly picked up on that.

"The clitoris is the human female's most sensitive erogenous zone and the primary source of female sexual pleasure."

He kissed her hip bone as his hands ran up and down her legs. Finally, they stroked back up to the apex of her thighs, coming to rest with a firm caress against the outer lips of her vagina. "Typically, there are two main areas of female orgasm. The first is achieved solely through clitoral stimulation." His finger swept into the folds of her vagina—having no trouble finding the little nubbin this time. He gave it a few, deft flicks until she threw her head back and pressed against him.

"The second," he continued, as aloof and determined as always, "is achieved through vaginal stimulation." His finger moved down and, without warning, invaded her opening. A second finger joined the first. Together, they rubbed against her feminine inner wall. "Apparently, this can be attained by finding the much debated 'G' spot—as they call it. And, if you do have it, then we should know after I—" He crooked one of the fingers inside of her gently and rubbed it determinedly against a new place. She bolted up in the bed, groaning against the onslaught of sensations this caused.

Amy was sure she was going to die from the orgasm she could feel building inside of her. Right now, she was OK with that. As long as he didn't stop, she didn't care if the world came to an end.

"Oh. My. God," she grunted, her legs splaying wider. A fiery corkscrew of pleasure was winding tighter and tighter inside of her. She was nearly mad with frenzy. "Yes, yes. Oh God, yes."

When Sheldon reached up with his thumb and gently pushed down on her clitoris while continuing with his earlier rubbing, her world shattered.

"Sheldon!" she screamed. Rapture flooded her senses. She clenched her eyes closed against the bombardment of bliss. She'd had orgasms before, but never like this. Nothing could ever be like this. If she wasn't already in love with him, she would have been after this.

He never ceased his actions. Even as her body trembled and shook with release, he kept rubbing and petting, seeming to wring every drop of pleasure from her he could. Finally, it was too much for her overstimulated genitals and she pushed him away. Her legs flopped deliriously to the bed as she enjoyed delicious little aftershocks of pleasure.

He got up from the bed and went into the bathroom. Amy barely noticed. She was too busy trying to remember how to think. _That was … That was … Oh my God._

Sheldon returned, drying his hands on a hand towel. He set the towel on the side table and aligned himself next to her on the bed. "That was satisfactory?" he asked.

"You excelled by every definition of the word and you know it," she wheezed, still trying to get her breathing under control.

He grinned, his eyes running over her again. "You know, if you had let me finish my research, you would have enjoyed that more."

"If I enjoyed that any more, I'd be dead right now," she retorted.

He laughed. "Your body takes on a particular rosy hue right before you achieve orgasm. Did you know that? And, your eyes are the most intriguing shade of green when you're aroused. It's quiet attractive … and stimulating."

The exhaustion she'd felt in the wake of her orgasm disappeared as she noticed his hardening penis. He eyed her as she eyed him.

"We don't have to. We can wait," he said.

"No," she said, straddling him before he could get away. "We do this. Now." She kissed him, relishing the ability to touch him again as she pleased.

His hands rested on her hips as they kissed. She wound her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss by thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He moaned and gripped her hips tightly before flipping her onto her back in one swift motion. He reached down to take her breast in his mouth again, but she grabbed him by the back of the head and made him look at her.

"Take me, Sheldon," she said.

"Yes," he groaned, stretching a hand out to grab his wallet on the bedside table. After a few blind taps, he noticed it wasn't there. It took a few minutes of searching the room, but he found it and recovered the second condom.

She wanted to help him put it on, but he batted her hands away. "Not this time," he said. "Lie back on the bed."

He rolled the condom on himself and settled back between her thighs. His breath was coming out in gasps, but she thought that had more to do with nervousness than arousal this time.

"We'll be fine," she assured him.

"Say it," he said, giving her cheek a light caress. "I need you to tell me now."

She knew instantly what he was talking about. "I love you, Sheldon," she said with a soft smile.

He nodded, took a deep breath, adjusted himself against her entrance and began to press inside. He went slowly, for her sake as well as his own. Before either of them knew it, he'd worked himself fully inside of her. Sheldon clenched his jaw tight and squeezed his eyes shut, like he was battling against something. For Amy, it was just the oddest sensation. Not unpleasant or painful. Just the impression of being oddly stretched and … full.

He began to move. Slightly at first, a little pull out and a quick shove in. It sent a little zing of feeling through her. Then, he just stopped. She looked up at him to make sure he was all right and found him staring back down at her.

"Are you OK? Am I hurting you?"

It seemed like it was taking all of his strength and mental dexterity to simply ask the question.

"No. Keep going. I'm fine."

"Put your legs around me," he grunted.

She did, wrapping them around his waist as her hands went under his arms and clutched at his shoulders from the back. This allowed him to move deeper within her, something that had both of them breathless. Sheldon pulled out and, with a thrust of his hips, came back to her. He groaned and the arms holding him up on either side of her head shook.

"Amy, this is … This is …" he said, his blue eyes now almost fully black.

"Yes," she panted, leaning up to kiss him.

Then, it just became about the drive, pull, adjusting, and the drive and pull again. Their movements weren't synchronized or choreographed. They were awkward and hot and clumsy and sweaty and lumbering and sexy—all at the same time. In one of his periods of adjustment, Sheldon seemed to hit something good within Amy and she became a wildcat, demanding he move faster and harder.

Sheldon complied, thrusting into her with wild abandon. They could have been at it for seconds or hours. Amy wasn't really sure which. All she knew was that one moment she was hurtling towards ecstasy and, the next, it was upon her. Pleasure showered every nerve ending as she ground her hips against his and fell apart. A short time later, Sheldon stiffened overhead as he, too, came with a rush. He let out a long, satisfied groan before collapsing on top of her.

They lay this way for the longest time. Not talking. Not moving. Just existing together almost as one unit. Finally, when his strength seemed to have returned, Sheldon pulled out of her and flopped down beside her on the bed. His breathing was still staccato and disjointed, but, then again, so was hers.

"Why didn't we do that a long time ago?" he asked.

Amy laughed and rolled to lie against his chest. "That is a question I've been asking for quite a long time."

He laughed as well, caressing the sweaty hair away from her forehead with his fingers. "You're all mine now, Amy Farrah Fowler," he stated, looking down at her.

She looked back up at him, cocooned in this perfect piece of paradise that she never wanted to end. "I've always been yours, Sheldon. Just as you've always been mine."

**A/N: In the immortal words of one of my favorite fan fiction authors, Becca Austen, "You're welcome." **

**LOL. If you haven't heard of the mighty Ms. Bex, you should check out her fic **_**Daylight**_** if for no other reason than to get the fullness of my little joke. Believe me, **_**Daylight**_** is A-MA-ZING. She leaves Stephenie Meyer weeping in shame. Her writing is the stuff awesome things are made of. I can only hope to be as good as her one day. Thanks for all your encouragement, Becca! You rock!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"Really? Still can't talk to me?"_  
__**Penny (TBBT Season 4)**__  
__"The Roommate Transmogrification"_

After having sex for the first time with the man she loves, it's usual for a woman to get breakfast in bed, foot massages, or grandiose proclamations of eternal devotion.

Amy got a trip to the laundry mat.

"Don't forget to add a dryer sheet," Sheldon cautioned. "Static cling is the plague of the unprepared."

Nodding, she tossed in the requested sheet, shut the dryer door, put in the money, and turned it on. Sheldon stood two machines down, doing the same thing for his own clothes.

"That's the last load," she commented because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I know," he said, as he arranged their suitcases strategically on a table for when they would begin folding and packing the dried clothes. Once his job was complete, he pulled out his laptop and got busy ignoring her ... again.

After coitus, everything had been perfect … for about a minute. Then, of course, the full reality of all they had done seemed to sink in to Sheldon. Little by little, he started to retreat. First, he stopped touching her and scooted away. Next, he sat up in the bed, using a pillow to cover his genitals. After announcing his need to shower thoroughly, he grabbed his robe, slipped it on, and scurried from their conjugal bed without a backwards glance.

Amy tried not to take it to heart. After all, it's not as if she thought sex was going to be a magic wand to fix all of his little quirks and issues. She just hadn't counted on this … _whatever it was_.

Well, he hadn't run screaming from the room or curled into the fetal position to cry. So, she supposed one should count this as progress. But his silence and unwillingness to truly interact with her seemed almost as bad. Amy couldn't help feeling disappointed. Was it wrong to expect a little romance after such a huge rite of passage in her life? OK. Maybe not breakfast in bed. _Who wants to deal with all those crumbs?_ Also, foot massages were out. _I'm quite ticklish, after all._ And, grandiose proclamations of eternal devotion really weren't Sheldon's style. _They always come off as tacky and unrealistic in movies anyway. _Still, he could have done something romantic to mark the occasion.

Sheldon, however, acted as though nothing of significance had occurred. He showered, dressed, and immediately went to work retooling the itinerary so they could complete the day's errands and still get to his mother's on time. As they were both running low on clothes, laundry topped the list.

The only outward sign that betrayed him was his increased appetite at lunch. He wolfed down two double cheeseburgers, a large helping of fries and decimated two bowls of cobbler. But, when she remarked on the food, he shrugged and blamed it on missing breakfast.

Conversation between them was limited to the most banal of subjects, and it became as difficult as teaching a monkey to read to get Sheldon to spit out more than a few words at a time. Even those dwindled to nothingness once the loads started coming out of the dryer. Together, they folded the laundry and packed it away in silence. He wouldn't even allow her to wash her clothes in the same loads as his—as if it would somehow be obscene to have her whites touching his. This bothered Amy probably more than it should have. It was ridiculous and hurtful in a way that felt petty and mean. But, she didn't say anything. She just pasted on a smile and tried to be patient in order to give him time to adjust. He obviously needed time to adjust. A good girlfriend would be patient. Wouldn't she?

All thoughts of patience ended right around the time that the last load came out of the dryer. One of her bras somehow got mixed in with his shirts. When he accidentally touched it, all hades broke loose. The second Sheldon realized what he was holding, he dropped it like he'd been scalded, pointed to the offending article, and sternly suggested she remove it from his pile with all due haste. Outraged, she did so, shoving it into her suitcase. _Now he can't even touch my clothes?_ _That's it, _she decided._ No more._

"Sheldon, we need to talk."

"Why? Did you lose one of your socks when you were moving the clothes from the dryer? I warned you to be careful about that. Look in the lint trap. I know it's disgusting, but sometimes they like to hide in there."

"No, I mean we need to talk about what we did this morning… in bed … together."

He kept his attention on the shirt he was folding. "There's nothing to say."

"So you want to pretend nothing happened?" Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She didn't think she could take rejection right now. She was feeling too vulnerable as it was. After saving her virginity for this long, she'd wanted her initial experience of lovemaking to be a welcome awakening of the senses and a physical representation of the feelings she had for her partner. And it had been. But, Sheldon's actions now was canceling out all of the good feelings she'd had and making it more like a nightmare.

He sighed and placed a stack of undershirts in his suitcase. "Amy, I couldn't pretend nothing happened if I wanted to. That would be impossible. It happened. Why must we now belabor the point?"

"Why?" Amy said. "Because this morning I made love with my boyfriend and now he won't even look me in the eye. How do you think that makes me feel, Sheldon?"

When he just kept folding his clothes instead of answering, she lost it. "Or don't you care? You're not even trying to take my feelings into account. You said you would. Why won't you at least try?"

She pivoted around to the door, intent on going outside to get some much-needed space away from him. But he raced over and blocked her exit. At last, with some obvious struggle, he looked up into her face. He tried to reach out to touch her, but it seemed too difficult a task for him to accomplish. His hands fell uselessly at his sides.

"Please, Amy, don't leave. This isn't easy for me. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. Everything is happening so fast, and I don't know how to manage it all. But I _am_ trying. Never say I'm not trying." He took a deep breath and let it out. "This will get easier—for both of us. It has to. As time goes on, I'm sure I'll not _feel _as …" Sheldon winced "_vulnerable_ as I feel right now." He shuddered and gritted his teeth. "I hate having feelings."

"Vulnerable?" she asked, latching onto this. _He feels vulnerable, too?_ It made sense, but it was still comforting to hear.

He nodded. "Yes. I shared that majestic moment with you—a moment I thought I would never experience—much less that I would ever willingly want to."

_Majestic? He thinks it was majestic? _A part of her melted. _Really?_ "You liked it?"

He seemed shocked that she would even have to ask. "After all we did together, how could you think otherwise?"

"Sheldon, I'm a neurobiologist, not a mind-reader. I know you don't like discussing your emotions, but you could have mentioned that you liked it. You weren't the only one feeling vulnerable, you know."

He considered this before giving a few quick nods. "I see. Then, yes, Amy, I liked it. I liked it a lot. More than red vines, more than trains." His bit his lip before blurting out the last item like it was heavily-guarded secret. "I liked it even more than my spot."

Amy was blown away. _More than his spot?_ She blushed, and her knees suddenly felt weak. Sheldon might not deliver compliments very often. But when he did, they were doozies. "Then why act like this? Why shut me out after all we've been through?"

He swallowed and continued, "The moment … this morning … It made real just how much power you wield over me, Amy; how much my life would become insignificant if you weren't a part of it; and how much more of myself I'm going to lose before this is all over." He groaned. "I hate dealing with emotions. It's exhausting."

"Sheldon, I told you, we can continue on as we have. Nothing needs to change right away."

"But, don't you see? It already has. This morning brought that fact home for me. You … hold … everything, and I… I… you…" His voice trailed off as he grew flustered and unable to speak. He stared at the floor a second before shooting a panicked look back up at her. "Don't leave me. I'm working through this. I _am_ trying. Just don't leave."

She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his Green Lantern shirt. "I'm not leaving you. I was just going outside to get a better handle on my anger."

It took a while, but he finally wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him. "Say it. I'm apparently turning into a hippie because I need to hear it again," he murmured against her hair.

"I love you, Sheldon Cooper."

He sighed and relaxed against her. "I'll never get tired of hearing that."

She smiled. "And I'll never get tired of saying it. Just don't shut me out anymore, all right? Whatever it is you're feeling, talk to me. We can work it out."

"I'll try. I'll hate it, but I'll try," he said and kept holding her. They stood there for a while as Amy's hand lightly stroked his back. "Oh, dear." Without warning, he took her by the shoulders and carefully set her away from him. "Will this infernal mess never end?"

"What?" she asked, confused by his actions.

"I want you again. I assumed, after this morning, this incessant urge would leave me, but it seems to have expanded exponentially. I thought by keeping our clothes separate, I would be able to stop thinking about this." He shook his head in dismay. "But, now I'm touching you and that just makes it all worse."

"What do our clothes have to do with anything?"

"Amy, how am I supposed to not think about coitus if I'm holding your panties in my hands?" He scowled like she was being deliberately obtuse. "I must say, I dislike how much control you seem to exert over my mind and body."

Amy laughed. "You think _I'm_ controlling this? You're wrong. I'm just as susceptible to your wiles as you are to mine. Believe me, it's taking all I have right now not to climb you like a tree."

His eyes shuttered at that, and it seemed to take him several minutes to recover. "So, what now? We become nothing more than animals in heat whenever we're in each other's presence?" He grimaced as he seemed to consider the ramifications of that. "That will certainly make our group pizza nights back home somewhat awkward. I don't even want to consider how this will affect our scheduled monthly date night."

She grinned at the salacious mental picture already playing in her head. "I do."

He frowned in disapproval. "You're not helping."

She giggled and threw herself back in his arms. He caught her with a guttural _oomph_.

"Sheldon," she said, "if our biggest issue as a couple is that we never want to leave the bedroom, I think we'll be doing fine. But, don't worry. I have no doubt that as we get used to this new facet of our relationship, these kinds of issues will work themselves out."

He peered down at her. "You mean there will come a time when I feel like myself again?"

"More like a new version of yourself, but yes."

He pondered this for a while before giving a long sigh. "I'm not sure about that. I don't believe I will ever stop wanting you."

As uncomfortable a confession as it clearly was for him to make, Amy still found it terribly romantic. The fact that it took place in an empty laundry mat of all places somehow only made it better.

— —

They made it to Mary's house about an hour later. Sheldon's mother had made it clear the night before that it was especially important that all of Meemaw's children and grandchildren be present at her house to go over arrangements for the funeral service. Then, after an early dinner, everyone would caravan to the funeral home together for the viewing.

Once they made it inside, everyone crowded into the living room as Mary went over the schedule. George was there, but said nothing to them. Sheldon forced Ginny out of his spot and her sister Hannah out of the space next to him so Amy could have a seat. Amy would have found her boyfriend's behavior rude had she not been slightly turned on by his gruff, no-nonsense demeanor. She'd always been a sucker for that side of Sheldon.

"All right. Everyone needs to be at the church no later than 10:30 am tomorrow. That way, we can walk in as a family. Pallbearers will all sit together in the front two pews on the left-side aisle," Mary said. "The pastor will give you a signal when he's done with the sermon and you'll all file out together."

As Sheldon was a member of this group, this meant he and Amy would not be sitting together at the funeral. But, it didn't bother her. She'd find a place somewhere in the back. She smiled to herself and, out of the corner of her eye, noticed that George was watching her. _What in the world?_ She ignored him and tried to focus on what Mary was saying.

"After the pastor makes his welcoming remarks, Missy, you will get up to sing 'The Old Rugged Cross.' Then, Hannah and Hazel, you'll both read that real pretty poem you wrote for Meemaw." Mary paused to wipe away a tear.

"Your sister can sing?" Amy whispered to Sheldon.

He gave a nod and turned back to his mother, seeming to get more nervous the longer she spoke, which made no sense. _Is he worried about being a pall bearer? Why?_ She looked up and noticed George staring again. This time, she looked him full in the face, expecting him to turn away. He didn't. If anything, he stared at her harder. _What is that about?_

Mary pointed at Ginny. "You'll read the eulogy next, and then it'll be time for Sheldon. The pastor will do a brief sermon, and then signal the pall bearers to get ready. As they carry out the casket, the congregation will sing 'Amazing Grace.'" She looked to her sister and brother. "Once we get to the graveside, it'll be time for the three of us to read the 23rd Psalm. The pastor makes his closing remarks and that'll be it. Does everyone understand what they're supposed to do?"

There was a flurry of nods and people began to file into the kitchen to fix their plates until only Amy and Sheldon remained behind. Sheldon, in the interim, had grown tenser. Amy touched her boyfriend's shoulder to get him to look at her. "What are you supposed to do?"

"Meemaw left a letter she wanted me to read at her service."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I found out on Sunday and too many others things had happened and have happened in the interval for me to even think about telling you."

Sunday seemed like a lifetime ago instead of only two days. As Sheldon disliked public speaking, she knew this would be difficult for him. "Do you want my help in preparing? We could practice when we get back to the motel room."

He shook his head. "Meemaw didn't want anyone to read the letter until it was opened at the funeral. I have no idea what it says. Mom won't even give it to me until right before the service begins."

"We could still practice."

"No, I'd rather just not think about it. When the time comes, I'll focus on the letter and read. I'll be fine. It's not as if it's a lecture or presentation."

"Well, if you need to look up at the audience, look for me. I'll be there cheering you on."

A small smile of relief broke over his features. "Thank you." The smile waned after a few minutes as he stared off, clearly in deep thought. "I miss my work and routine. I know it goes against social protocol, but I would give anything to be in my office back at Cal-Tech working at my white board right now."

Amy nudged him good-naturedly with her shoulder. "I know what you mean. It's seems like it's been a month since I sliced into a brain. I think I might be an addict experiencing withdrawals." The irony of that statement given her major field of study made them both chuckle.

After a quick supper and a quicker change of clothes for Amy and Sheldon, everyone piled into their separate cars and drove to the funeral home. On the ride over, Sheldon and Amy engaged in a light debate over whether Albert Einstein and Richard Feynman contributed more to the world of physics. But, as it was really a chicken versus the egg discussion, they were doing it more for fun than anything else. Her ringing phone brought an end to the conversation. Amy could tell from the ringtone who was calling. "It's just Penny," she said, deciding to let it go to voicemail because she was driving.

Something horrific seemed to occur to Sheldon.

"What?" Amy asked. "Is everything OK? She's probably just calling to check on us. She texted me yesterday, but I never got back to her."

He looked at her. "When you do speak to her, what are you going to tell her about _us_?"

This startled her. With everything that had happened, she hadn't even considered it. From the expression on Sheldon's face, she could tell the answer he wanted her to give and it wasn't what she wanted to do. After all, relating one's first coital experience with one's girlfriends was as much a rite of passage as the act of engaging in coitus itself. "Sheldon, Penny's my best friend. The best friend code states that I must share all major life changes with her. Otherwise, she'll feel betrayed and left out."

"I'm your boyfriend and …" He seemed embarrassed and barely breathed the next word, "_lover_. As such, your primary loyalty must be to me over your best friend. Besides, I don't think this best friend code you speak of actually exists. I've never heard of it."

"It was in a book series I used to read as a girl. I always told myself if I ever managed to snag a best friend, I would honor that code until the day I died. Besides, what does it matter if she finds out? I'll make her pinky swear not to tell anyone."

Sheldon scowled. "Surely you don't believe she'll be able to keep news like this quiet? Haven't we more than proven over the years what a gossipy bunch our friends are? Do I need to dig up the research paper we wrote after our meme theory experiment? You tell Penny and you may as well skywrite it over the west coast." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I also have no interest in hearing Howard's or Raj's asinine opinions on our intimate life."

This was certainly a conundrum. _Penny or Sheldon?_ It was a choice Amy never thought to have to make, and she found herself honestly torn. Of course, she loved Sheldon. That was a given. But, to have someone as wonderful, beautiful, experienced and kind as Penny want to be in her life after experiencing the drought of human companionship that was her childhood, teens, and early twenties made her bestie all the more invaluable.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her.

"Amy, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around all that we've done. If they know, it will only make that job harder. I can't handle their mocking on top of everything else."

_Drat. _He was right. It wasn't just her own feelings, experiences, and relationships that were at stake here. Sheldon's were, too. She had to respect his wishes. _Sorry, Penny._

Sheldon had more than won the argument, but before she admitted that, Amy had another point to raise. "You do know that our friends will eventually find out, right? Our body language, non-verbal cues, and such will give us away sooner or later. Or, do you expect us to return home and never touch each other again?" she asked, worried he might actually be thinking that.

"No, of course not. We'll make a coital schedule amendment to the relationship agreement and conduct all intimate relations at your apartment only. Believe me, the walls in my apartment are almost paper-thin, and Leonard doesn't spend every night at Penny's. And, if we keep our physical touching to a minimum while in public, we'll be able to adequately buy ourselves some time. Penny, Leonard, and the others may find out ultimately. But, by that time, I'll have a better handle on this. We can formulate a way to deal with them then."

This presented another problem. "Sheldon, coitus is not something you can schedule. What if one of us simply isn't in the mood? Or, what if after a rousing documentary on the mating practices of locusts one night, we find ourselves overcome with pre-coital lust while alone at your apartment?"

"Amy, without routine, one has anarchy and chaos," he stated. "We will have routine."

She shook her head. "I will agree to a routine in every other aspect of our lives but this one. I'm sorry, but this is not an area you can schedule. I, for one, have spent the last two years wanting you from afar and have been forced to quell my every desire. I won't go back to that. If you would prefer me not to tell Penny about our liaisons, I'll concede your logic is sound and refrain from doing so. But, on the point of scheduling coitus, I will stand my ground."

The clenching of Sheldon's jaw told Amy she wasn't going to be the only one doing that tonight.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"Well, it seems once again you're caught between a rock and a crazy place."_  
__**Leonard Hofstadter (TBBT Season 2)**__  
__"The Terminator Decoupling"_

"You two getting out of the car or are you gonna sit in the parking lot gabbing all night?"

Their debate was postponed as they looked over at Hank, who had his face pressed so firmly against the driver's side window that his flattened nose made him look almost porcine.

Sheldon groaned. "Is it too much to hope that, for my sake, Aunt Gladys' female hormones and evolutionary predisposition to reproduce were stimulated by a passing mailman on the afternoon of Hank's conception?"

"As he has the Cooper cheekbones and height, I would say your hope is in vain," Amy replied.

Sheldon shook his head in dismay. "Pity."

They exited the car and greeted Hank as well as Beau, Reagan and their children. Although steadfastly avoiding anything that involved touching, Sheldon accepted their condolences with courtesy and thanked them for coming.

"We'd do anything for Meemaw," Reagan said. "That woman was an angel."

"Yeah," Hank added. "Most of the Coopers are coming tonight. Meemaw was like one of our own. Even them that drove or flew in for the reunion stuck around. Didn't seem right for them not pay their respects."

More cars pulled in, packing the parking lot of Morrison's Funeral Home. Evidently, there was going to be a full house tonight. Amy and Sheldon followed the queue of people through the front door and stopped just inside the foyer to see Missy and the new boyfriend, Greg, who were welcoming visitors.

Missy looked as lovely as usual in a black print dress while Greg was garbed in a double-breasted black suit that made him look like a minister instead of a mortician. But, one forgot all about religion the second they looked him full in the face. He was, in a word, dazzling. His dark hair and dark eyes brought out his olive complexion. He was tall and wiry with the build of a former athlete. His smile was the best part. It was vivid, debonair, and gave him a movie-star quality. _With a smile like that,_ Amy thought, _he could do tooth-whitening commercials._

_Or make the sun come out on a rainy day. _

_Or cure cancer._

"Mom, Aunt Ruth, and Uncle Stumpy are back there with Meemaw now," Missy explained. "Everyone else can start going back once they're done." She turned towards her brother. "Shelly, I don't think you've met Greg Morrison yet. His father owns the funeral home. He and I are dating now. Greg, this is my twin brother, Sheldon."

"Nice to meet you," Sheldon said politely.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Greg intoned somberly, holding out a hand to shake.

Sheldon thanked him for the condolences, but flatly refused to take his hand. Greg wasn't offended. Instead, he acted as though this happened all the time, turned to Amy, and flashed his should-be-trademarked smile. "A pleasure to see you again, Amy."

She stared up at him, as spellbound as a child enjoying her first fireworks show. "Hi there," she sighed. _He's just so ... pretty._

"Would you both like to have a seat in the front parlor while you wait?" Greg offered.

"Hi there," Amy said again.

Sheldon glanced down at her in confusion. "Are you all right?"

"Hi there," she echoed, still looking at Greg. _What am I doing?_ She blinked and tore her gaze away from Missy's stunning boy toy so she could transfer it her own boyfriend. "I-I'm fine." _Maybe._

Sheldon cocked an eyebrow at her. Bidding his sister and Greg goodbye, he ushered Amy into the front parlor, a wide room with beige carpet and white walls with gold trim. Here and there, benches, sofas and the like were spaced out to give people a place to congregate, rest or reflect. There were three doorways heading off to various spaces beyond. Amy wasn't sure which one housed Meemaw and she didn't have time to wonder as she and Sheldon exchanged greetings with a few more relatives before sitting down on an empty, tufted loveseat near a window.

"Are you ill? What was that back there with Greg?" he asked.

Amy felt a blush creeping up. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. It was like meeting Adonis in the flesh." She covered her face in shame. "Please forgive me. I promise you I had no control over my actions back there. I love _you_. I just couldn't stop looking at him. H-h-he—"

He pried her hands away and nudged her chin up. "Apparently, _he's_ an epidemic."

"Huh?"

He gestured through the ornate, carved archway of the parlor, where she could see Greg all but holding court in the foyer. "Aunt Gladys, Ginny, Hannah, and Hazel seem to be similarly affected."

Indeed, Sheldon's aunt and cousins were practically falling over themselves trying to talk to Greg. Ginny seemed to be finding reasons to touch him, and she wasn't the only one.

"Hank, too? Wow," Amy remarked, turning back to Sheldon. "Latent homosexual tendencies, perhaps?"

"It would certainly explain a lot." He gave an indifferent shrug. "So you see? No need for self-recriminations. You fell victim to nothing more than flawless facial and body symmetry; a wide, robust jaw; a rounded face; and a pair of thick eyebrows. Believe me, I've experienced it myself."

"You've been struck stupid by the beauty of a man?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed.

"A woman then?"

"Outside appearance means very little to me. Always has; always will. But, as my face is almost perfectly symmetrical and I was born with blue eyes—which are considered a rare and desirable trait in this country—I've had to deal with similar reactions from the opposite sex. Add my keen intellect and renowned talents in physics to the mix and," He puffed his thin chest out with pride, "I'm quite the chick magnet."

Amy laughed at his supreme confidence. It was sweetly endearing. Yet, cute ego aside, he had a point. "Oh, I agree. In fact, I almost refused to be your friend when we first met because of your overt handsomeness. I thought it could prove distracting, but your superior and unique acumen eventually won me over."

"Thank you, Amy," he said, smiling as though she'd given him the best compliment of his life.

She couldn't help but smile back. "In the end, though, my first impression was correct. As much as I admire and cherish your mind, your attractiveness does often prove distracting. I frequently get lost in your eyes and find myself especially drawn to your hands. They're quite muscular and defined. As I now know how adept they are at lovemaking, I—"

"Amy," he interrupted, "this is not an appropriate time or place to discuss _that_."

She knew he was right, but still enjoyed the lovely blush now tinting his masculine cheeks. She leaned in so she could whisper. "Can I tell you when we get back to the motel?"

"No!" His blush deepened. "Some things are better kept to one's self. Just because I sometimes find myself captivated to your ample hindquarters, for example, does not mean I should inform you thusly."

"You're attracted to my bottom? Really?" _Sheldon was a butt man? Who knew?_

He was so red now he appeared sunburnt. "My attraction is a classic evolutionary response given—No, I refuse to go down _that_ particular rabbit hole with you." He cleared his throat. "My point—before _you_ got distracted—is now that you've seen Greg in all of his splendor, you'll be better prepared to temper your reaction next time."

"No, I won't."

"What?"

Amy bit her lip. "I acted the same way when I met him at your mother's yesterday. I was like a skipping CD. He'd ask a question, and I couldn't stop giving the same answer. 'I'm Greg. It's a pleasure to meet you.' 'I'm Amy.' 'So you're from California?' 'I'm Amy.' 'What do you do for a living?' 'I'm Amy.'" She expelled a soft, frustrated whimper. "It was the most mortifying twenty minutes of my life. If Missy hadn't come to my rescue, I'd probably still be standing there in the kitchen repeating, 'I'm Amy.'"

Sheldon studied her as if she were a puzzle he had yet to solve. "Fascinating. I wish we had brought your electrodes. It would be interesting to see what areas of your brain light up when you're around him."

She smiled and relaxed against the back of the loveseat. _This_ is why she loved having Sheldon Cooper as her boyfriend. No other man would have said that. "Exactly. But hooking myself up to electrodes at your grandmother's viewing would be highly inappropriate. Your mother wouldn't like it."

He nodded, giving a beleaguered sigh. "She is a stickler for tradition at times like these. It's too bad really. This evening will be filled with the tediousness of dealing with my extended family, all of whom seem intent on trying to hug, kiss, or otherwise touch me." He gave a slight shiver of disgust. "An experiment might have provided some stimulating entertainment. I imagine even Meemaw would have found it intriguing." A slight shadow fell over his face as he mentioned his grandmother.

"Do you think she would have been affected by Greg?"

"She would have flirted with him and called him a beefcake," he answered matter-of-factly.

Amy giggled, imagining Meemaw doing just that. "Perhaps when we return to Pasadena, we can arrange a Skype session with Greg and Missy and complete the experiment that way? It would also be interesting to see if my not being in the same room with him somehow changes my reaction."

"They'll have terminated their relationship by then. My sister changes boyfriends as most women change their shoes. She's been that way since she was in high school. I've mentioned her reckless, romantic patterns to her many times, but she never listens. If Meemaw were here, she would … Meemaw …" He broke off and stared into the distance, the morose expression on his face underscoring the grief he continued to struggle with.

Amy went to grab his hand, but thought better of it. Since they had arrived, Sheldon's every action had made it clear he wasn't willing to be touched right now. She should respect that.

He glanced down when she jerked her hand back. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry. I was going to offer you comfort by taking your hand, but I reconsidered. I thought it might only upset you further."

"Why?" He seemed sincerely curious.

"Because, since we've been here, every time someone has tried to touch you, you've been instantly repelled."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with you?"

"You hate physical touching. You have rules against it."

"Every rule has an exception."

"I'm your exception?" Amy said, unable to believe he could mean it.

He frowned as if he was unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say. Finally, he looked up at her and said, "Yes. You are my exception."

They stared at each other and everything else around them went away. She smiled again. Slowly, he smiled back. Overwhelmed with love and happiness, she reached over and planted a kiss worthy of a television season finale on him.

It took Sheldon a minute or so to reorient himself when she finally pulled back. But once he did, he immediately went into scolding mode. "Amy, being allowed to touch me is one thing. However, I would demand you restrain yourself from public displays of that sort, if you please. My family is here, and we're in a funeral home. It's unseemly. Such demonstrations should be confined to the bedroom."

She grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him beckoningly. "Indeed I will, Dr. Cooper."

He caught her expression and apparently deduced her double entendre as he peered down at her, haughtily. "And don't get your hopes up for tonight. You and I are going to finish our discussion from the car before we do any of _that_, young lady."

She winked at him, daringly. "We'll see," she promised.

Sheldon blushed again and looked away, coughing to cover his discomfort. He excused himself a few minutes later to get a drink of water. As he obviously needed a few minutes to cool off, she let him go without argument. As she looked idly around the room, her attention landed on George, who was looking back at her from his position next to Granddaddy Cooper. His unwavering stare left her feeling unnerved.

"What did you do to Shelly?" Missy asked, stealing her brother's vacated place on the cream-colored loveseat. "He was blushing. What did you say?"

Amy tried to ignore George as she turned to talk to the young woman at her side. "I was merely teasing him."

"You kissed him, you mean. Don't think everyone didn't see, too. Granddaddy Cooper looked like he was gonna start clapping for a minute there."

Amy was mortified for the second time in the evening. She certainly hoped no one said anything to Sheldon about the kiss. He was already in such a vulnerable position. If Granddaddy Cooper started his shenanigans again, it would only make that worse.

_Restraint, Amy Farrah Fowler_, she chided herself. She decided to change the subject before she made it worse and accidentally gave something away. If Sheldon didn't want Penny to know about their bedroom antics, he certainly wasn't going to want his sister to find out. "How's your mother holding up? Every time we see her, she seems fine, but I can't help worrying. I'm sorry Sheldon and I haven't been around much."

Missy waved off her concerns. "It's fine. Mom's a tough cookie. She's got Aunt Ruth and me to lean on. Besides, you've been taking care of Sheldon. That's been a huge load off all of us. With him and Meemaw being so close, we weren't sure how he'd handle it. I thought he might crack or something, but, he's coming through like a trooper—because of you."

"Sheldon has better coping skills than most people give him credit for," Amy defended, not liking the idea that they would believe her boyfriend to be so fragile. He had his issues, but he was strong where it counted. "I'm just here to help."

"Well, I wish you could help me." She sighed and looked over at Greg with something close to longing.

"How are things going between you two?" Amy asked, hoping that longing meant good things.

"I'm gonna have to dump him."

"Why?" Amy asked. "He's very attractive. From what I can tell, he appears fairly intelligent and, despite his good looks, he does not strike me as the type of man who would cheat on you."

"No, that is one thing I _definitely_ won't have to worry about," Missy huffed.

"Then what's the problem?"

"He's too Christian."

Amy frowned at Missy in confusion. "What's 'too Christian'? Aren't you a Christian? Wouldn't having the two of you sharing the same religious beliefs be a positive thing?"

"He goes overboard with it, though. We've been going out for two days, and he won't even kiss me. I asked him why when he picked me up tonight and he spouted off something about premarital sex being a sin." Missy rolled her eyes.

"Isn't it considered a sin in your religion?"

"Yeah, but that's beside the point. I mean, don't get me wrong. I love the Lord and I'm pretty devout, but not even kissing me? That's pushing it to the extreme, don't you think? He said he wanted to get to know me better before things went 'that far'. Since when is kissing 'that far'?" Something horrifying seemed to occur to her. "Oh Lord, what if he's a virgin?"

"That would be the most logical conclusion based on what you've told me. Would that really be so bad?"

Missy grimaced. "It would be weird. That's what it would be."

"Well, nobody's perfect," Amy countered, sighing again at Greg's remarkable good looks. "And he is a beefcake."

"Yeah, but would you stay with a man just because he's gorgeous?"

"No."

"See?" Missy said with a confident nod as though she'd proven her point.

"But I also wouldn't break up with someone merely because we weren't having sex either. Greg is a gentleman. That is a rarity in today's world. Personally, I find that particular trait endearing."

Missy rolled her eyes again. "Obviously. You're dating my brother. He practically invented the idea of the sexless relationship. I don't know how you stand it. Don't you have needs?"

Amy didn't bother to answer that. It would be like walking a minefield. "Well, if you're looking for a man without flaws, he doesn't exist." Her eyes caught on Sheldon as he walked back across the room towards them. She was struck by how handsome he looked in his new black suit. _Yeah, I've got needs_, she thought. _I need him._

Missy shrugged. "I don't think it's wrong to be choosy when it comes to this. I only plan to get married once in my life. Is it wrong to want the pick of the litter instead of the runt?"

Halfway across the room, Sheldon got waylaid by his mother who'd just come out from seeing Meemaw. She was crying. He handed her one of the cloth handkerchiefs he'd purchased for himself. His mother took it, blew her nose, and leaned in to hug him. He accepted all of this with barely a flinch. He even awkwardly patted his mother on her back in a comforting manner.

Amy was overwhelmed again by a wave of love at this unexpected show generosity and compassion on his part. "Missy," she said, "sometimes, the runt_ is_ the pick of the litter. But, you'll never figure that out unless you stick around and actually get to know someone."

Missy opened her mouth as if to argue, apparently caught Amy's expression, and looked over at Sheldon. They both watched as Mary tried to hand the soiled handkerchief back. Instead of taking it, he waved it off and held up a trash can for her to put it in. "My brother is the luckiest man in the world," she said. "No other woman would put up with all of his crap."

Amy turned back in alarm. "You're wrong. We're equally fortunate. He has his issues, and I have mine. The point to love is accepting and relishing not only the good parts of someone, but also the flaws. Especially the flaws."

"How do you love someone's flaws?"

"You accept that it's part of them and make allowances accordingly."

"I could see you doing that for Shelly, but he doesn't do that for anyone."

Amy looked Missy full in the face. "He makes exceptions. Big ones. Believe me."

"I can't imagine—"Missy broke off to stare at her, aghast. "Oh my God. You do love him. Like really _love_ him."

"Yes, I do," Amy said, proudly.

Missy was struck speechless for a few minutes. "Does he know?"

"Yes."

"And he's OK with it? He's always said he's above all that. How is he not freaking out? Does he love you? Has he told you?"

"Missy, I don't think your brother would appreciate me getting into the specifics of our relationship with you. As you know, he is a deeply private man. Besides, we're talking about you here. What are you afraid of? Falling in love? Not being able to find someone to love you back?"

When Missy flinched over the last question, Amy knew she'd hit pay dirt. "That's it, isn't it? You find the flaws in men before they can find the ones in you. And, if Greg won't have sex with you, you feel like you'll hold no power in the relationship, which means he'll discover your flaws faster."

"I simply—I … you don't understand."

"I don't have to understand. It isn't my life." She reached out to pat her hand. "I'm not judging. I'm merely trying to help you. You said you wanted to be friends. Well, friends tell each other the truth. Sooner or later, you're going to have to let a man meet the real you—warts and all."

Missy's looked away, uneasily. "What happens if he can't love me? What if I'm not good enough? I don't think I could handle that."

Amy decided to give Sheldon's sister the same pep talk she'd given herself a million times before, the one that had gotten her through some pretty rotten periods in her life. She touched Missy's arm until she looked at her. "You're good enough just as you are, Melissa Cooper. Nobody's perfect, least of all you. But you are worthy of being loved. Never think otherwise. Accept yourself for who you are—even the shortcomings. Someday, someone will do the same and give you the love you deserve. But, you'll never know unless you try."

Like a damn breaking under the strain of a flood, Missy fell against her and sobbed. Amy could do nothing but hold Sheldon's sister as the girl cried on her shoulder. Like lancing a festering wound, the infection had to come out. She patted her gently on the back. The low din of voices in the room fell silent as Missy continued to cry. Sheldon hurried over followed by his mother and Aunt Ruth.

"I knew she was taking it too well," Mary fretted, transferring her now-hiccuping daughter into her arms. "She hasn't cried since the day Mama died."

Neither Amy nor Missy corrected the misconception.

Greg ran over a second later. "Missy?" he asked, handing her some Kleenexes. "Are you all right? Perhaps we should head outside for some fresh air?"

Missy looked up from her mother's shoulder, tracks of tears scoring her cheeks. "I need to clean up, first. I probably look a mess." She began to mop at her face.

Greg shook his head. "You're fine as you are. Don't worry."

"I am?" Missy asked, gaping at the man in front of her as if she'd never seen him before.

He held out a hand. "Come take a walk with me. We can talk."

"Talk? OK. Sure," she murmured. She accepted his hand and walked with him to the door. Before they got there, she turned back and stared at Amy as though she couldn't believe this was happening.

Amy grinned and sent her back an encouraging wink. The pair were out the door moments later.

"Sheldon, can you go get my purse out of the car? I plumb forgot my phone was in there and people are bound to get lost and call for directions," Mary said, handing him the keys.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and sprinted out the door.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Amy asked.

Mary looked tired, but she still smiled and patted Amy's cheek affectionately. "I'm good, sweetie. You just stay here. Sheldon will be ready to see his Meemaw when he gets back. He'll need you nearby for that."

Amy nodded and watched as Ruth and Mary went off to welcome some new arrivals. She settled back against the loveseat again, content to observe the various goings-on around her. It was a smorgasbord of human interaction. People went through the various doorways, some to see Meemaw and some to other rooms. In the middle of everything, Hank and Little Billy looked to be in some kind of loud hunting discussion that involved wild hand gestures. At least, it did until Aunt Gladys came by and whacked Hank upside the head for being too rowdy. In one corner, Beau was scolding his son for climbing on the furniture while Reagan rocked her sleeping daughter on her shoulder. In another, Ginny was peering out the window, as if trying to spot someone outside—_probably Greg_, Amy surmised, with a shake of her head. At last, her eyes alighted on Granddaddy Cooper in his wheelchair. He, likewise, caught her gaze and sent her a saucy wink.

She giggled at his antics. It was odd, but she felt more at home with these crazy people than she did with her own family. She wondered what Sheldon would think of that.

"Hello, Amy," a deep voice decreed as its owner slid onto the loveseat next to her.

Amy turned to look at him, not feeling so much at home any longer. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Hello, George."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"Well hello, Prince Charming."_  
__**Bernadette Rostinkowski-Wolowitz (TBBT Season 6)**__  
__"The Contractual Obligation Implementation"_

George Cooper might be an ass, but he cleaned up nicely. In a navy blue suit with a well-groomed haircut and a proper shave, he looked every inch the gentleman. But, his refined appearance did nothing to calm Amy's apprehension.

"What do you want, George?" she asked, keeping her manner businesslike.

"What makes you think I want anything?" he replied, casually settling his arm along the back of the loveseat.

Amy straightened her posture and propped her hands on her knees. "You're sitting here, aren't you? You've also been watching me for the last two days and, based on the little time I've known you as well as what I've been told, you're not the kind of person who makes idle chit-chat. Therefore, you either want something or you've developed amorous feelings towards me." As nonchalantly as she could, she looked away from him out into the crowd.

He leaned in until his breath brushed against her cheek. "Would you like it if I developed feelings for you?"

She stiffened. _He's deliberately trying to make me uncomfortable. Why?_ More than used to being in awkward and uncomfortable situations, Amy decided to give tit for tat. "You've been drinking again, I see," she said, turning to stare him down.

George receded, resuming his former position with a sulk. In an instant, his gentlemanly facade evaporated, replaced by the scornful sneer she knew all too well.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he retorted.

"Really?" She leaned towards him this time, noticing the makeup on his face trying to cover the black eye Sheldon had given him on Sunday. "Fact: Your hands aren't shaking. Fact: Your pupils are dilated. Fact: There is a barely noticeable slur to your speech. Fact: Your breath—no matter how much spearmint gun you chew—has the underlying odor of cheap bourbon. Conclusion: You've been drinking again."

He looked away. "You're just like Sheldon. You think you know everything."

"In this case, I do know everything. I've been studying addiction and its effect on the brain for the last twelve years. For three of those years, I specialized in mammalian addiction—mostly monkeys. For the last few months, I've been working with amphibians and reptiles."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that I recognize an addict when I see one. You, sir, are an addict."

"I'm not going to sit here and be called names," he grumbled.

"I merely stated the truth. If you don't wish to hear it, I suggest you continue on your way. Sheldon will return shortly, and he will, no doubt, be less than pleased to find you sitting here."

"He apologized to me."

George's abrupt change in tone took Amy by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

The sneer fell away as his expression softened and his eyes widened in disbelief. For once, she thought she could see the real George Cooper staring back at her. It was a welcome sight.

"You didn't know?" he asked. "Sheldon called me on Sunday. The night—you know—he hit me. Anyway, he called and apologized. A real apology—not one of those fake ones he sometimes does that really just puts the blame back on the one he's supposed to be apologizing to." Withdrawing his arm from behind the back of the loveseat, he clenched his hands together in his lap and stared down at them. "I think it was the first time I ever saw Sheldon do that without Mom making him. I thought for sure you had something to do with it."

"No," she admitted, "I didn't. I know Sheldon feels guilty for what he did. He's not a violent person, but Meemaw's death—"

George darted a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. "You don't have to defend him. I know why he hit me. I also know I deserved it." He paused with a bitter chuckle. "Well, some of it anyway. But, if you knew what it was like growing up like we did, you'd understand. Dad was always pitting me and Shelly against each other and neither one of us ever measured up to what he thought a 'real man' should be. The drinking … it's my way of coping."

Amy wasn't buying it for a minute. "It's a crutch and you're making excuses instead of taking responsibility. No one's childhood is perfect. No parent is perfect. Your father was an alcoholic and his marriage to your mother was oftentimes acrimonious, but you still were raised by two loving, devoted parents."

"You don't understand. You weren't there."

"Sheldon and Missy grew up in the same household with the same parents. _They_ were there. Yet neither of them are alcoholics. How do you explain this?"

"I may have buried myself in a bottle like Dad, but Sheldon buried himself in books and Missy buried herself in men. They're the same as me. But you're gonna sit here and tell me I'm the one who's wrong?"

She sighed. He still didn't understand. It was frustrating. "This isn't about assigning wrong or right. I'm simply telling you that you're an alcoholic, George. You can either accept that you have a problem and get the help you need or you can spend the rest of your life making excuses for why you are the way you are and otherwise wallowing in self-pity while your alcohol addiction does further damage you brain, body and familial relationships. As you said, both Sheldon and Missy have their own issues. They have recognized those issues and are working to overcome them. It's called growing up. How much of your life do you need to waste before you do the same?"

"Look, if I wanted an after-school special, I'd be talking to my mother right now."

"Then you leave me no choice but to revert back to my original question," Amy said, peering over the nose of her glasses at him. "What do you want, George?"

The sneer returned. So did Sheldon.

"You're in my spot."

The both looked up at him.

"By all means," George clipped, "let me get out of Sheldon's spot." He got to his feet and executed a mocking bow at her. "Amy, it was an absolute _delight_ shooting the breeze with you. We simply _must_ do so again."

"The pleasure was all mine," Amy retorted, holding his gaze.

The sneer flickered for the barest of seconds before George pivoted and swaggered away.

"What was that about? I'm not good at recognizing sarcasm, but even I could tell he did not mean what he said. Was he bothering you?" Sheldon asked, glaring after his brother.

"No, I'm fine. We just talked. He's angrier at himself than me."

"Talked?" Sheldon ehcoed. "What could you two possibly have to talk about? You're a neurobiologist and he's … George Jr. What do you have in common?"

"Addiction."

Sheldon thought this over before replying. "I see." He looked around at the people still pouring in from the door. "Perhaps this is something we can talk about when we return to the motel? I still need to see Meemaw, and time is running out. We've already been here an hour. I can't put it off any longer."

"We could have gone earlier," she offered.

"No, I wasn't ready then. I'm ready now." He stood, straightening himself as if preparing to do battle.

"I understand. Would you like me to go back with you?"

He turned back to her with a frown. "Of course. I need you."

She smiled up at him. "I need you, too."

He continued to stare down at her for a while, as if he were puzzling out all the meanings of what they'd just said to each other. Finally, with a small shake of his head, he held out a hand to her.

She took it, letting Sheldon guide her through the throng of people. Before they made it through the doorway off the far right of the parlor, she saw George out of the corner of her eye. He was staring again. Except, this time, his eyes weren't on Amy or Sheldon at all.

It was on their clasped hands.

— —

Meemaw was wearing a soft blue dress that would have matched her eyes, a simple pearl necklace and matching pearl studs. Besides a simple gold wedding ring, she wore no other jewelry on her hands. She was reclined in a mahogany casket decorated with a cascading spray of baby's breath and pink roses. Placed around the coffin were various baskets of other types of flowers and plants, all white or pink—the latter evidently Meemaw's favorite color. There was even a basket of white lilies from their friends back in Pasadena. Amy thought this was a sweet gesture. In the middle of all of this was the arrangement of daisies Sheldon had selected. They were a burst of vitality in what was otherwise a drab white room with brown carpet. _Meemaw would have loved them._

"Mom liked the daisies. They made her cry because I remembered they were Meemaw's favorite," Sheldon bragged. He gave a dramatic eye roll. "Like I'd forget."

Amy smiled up at him, feeling a little weepy herself. _Hold it together, girl. This is his meemaw. Not yours. _

Nothing more was said as they walked up to the casket and peered down. Beyond a deep swallow and a tightening grip of her hand, Sheldon had no reaction to what he was seeing. The silence extended between them as others came up to the coffin, paid their respects, and moved on.

Finally, when it was just the two of them again, Sheldon said, "Pop-Pop gave her the necklace for their first wedding anniversary. It was her most prized possession."

"It's beautiful."

"They're not real pearls, you know. They didn't have money for that when they first started out. He tried to exchange the fake pearls for real for their thirtieth anniversary, but she wouldn't hear of it. She kept saying the fake ones were better because they were filled with love." He shook his head. "Meemaw was a smart woman, but she often allowed herself to be drawn into oversentimentality."

"I agree with her," Amy said, wiping away a renegade tear. "The fake ones are better."

"Of course you agree with her. You're a woman. You women always agree with each other," he chided. Since his words were followed with a gentle hand squeeze, she knew he didn't really mean it.

Sheldon reached inside the casket, smoothing down the lapel of Meemaw's dress. His breathing hitched a little, but he didn't cry. "I miss her," he said.

"I know." There was nothing else she could say.

"I hate feeling like this."

"I know."

"This feeling. It doesn't go away. It's always in the back of my mind, like a boogeyman waiting to scare me."

"I know." And she did know. It had been over a decade since she'd buried her dad and there wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think of him, miss him, mourn him. "How did you handle it when your father passed away?"

"I left home when I was eleven to attend college and, before that, he and I were not close. He was an adequate father, I suppose. There were times he certainly tried to be. But, we seemed to be planets orbiting at different ends of a vast solar system. I have no doubt that he cared for me—I was his child, after all—but I don't think he understood me all that well. I did not understand him, either. When he died, I was as upset as one would expect. However, as we rarely had comprehensive conversations and I was living in California at the time, I suppose I coped by always telling myself he was merely here while I was there."

"And when you came home to visit? Did you miss him then?"

"Sometimes." He shrugged. "There are occasions when I would like the ability to ask him questions—the kind a son asks his father at different points in his life. But, it is futile to wish for something that can never be." He nodded towards Meemaw. "She was different though. She was the first real friend I ever had, the first to see me as special. She and Pop-Pop were the ones who first recognized my potential in the field of science." He sighed.

She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

"We wrote letters to each other, you know, and talked on the phone ever Sunday afternoon. She's my 3 pm slot. Now, every Sunday, my thoughts will return to her. Now, every time I go to the mailbox and there isn't a letter in there with her handwriting on it, I will think of her." He groaned and shut his eyes. "I hate feeling like this."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down for a hug. He came willingly, resting his cheek against her shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, her patting his back. At long last, she released him. "Better?"

He paused, seeming to do some kind of diagnostic check of all his systems. "No," he replied, "but no worse either. Thank you for trying." He took her hand back in his and returned to his position of staring down at Meemaw.

Amy wasn't sure how long they were back there. She only knew that, all too soon, Sheldon leaned down, whispered something she couldn't decipher to his grandmother, and announced his intention to depart. She followed him back out into the parlor. Of course, she had little choice in that as he didn't seem to be willing to let her go.

The crowd was starting to thin as the evening was drawing to a close. From the looks of things, George was gone for the evening as was Granddaddy Cooper. Mary and Ruth were talking to a few of the last-minute drop-ins. Sheldon and Amy stopped in to check on them.

After another half hour, it was time to leave. Mary and Missy bid them goodnight. Amy couldn't help noticing that Missy seemed happier somehow. Greg was ever attentive to Missy, Ruth and Mary, bringing them bottled water and making Kleenex runs. Amy thought it was sweet. She wanted to ask Missy what she and Greg had talked about on their walk. However, as Sheldon didn't seem willing to let Amy out of his sight, it became a futile undertaking.

They were driving back to the motel when Sheldon again broached the subject of his brother.

"Why did George Jr. want to talk to you about addiction?"

"I think he wants me to help him with his drinking problem."

His eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "Why would he think you could help him? That's what rehab is for. Mom has tried many times to get him to check in to one of the clinics, but he refuses. He keeps saying he doesn't have a problem."

Amy shrugged, but kept her eyes on the road. "I don't know what he thinks I can do. We argued before he could get around to asking me. Then, you showed up."

Sheldon remained quiet for a while, pondering this new development. "Why would he broach you about this, though? I know you are quite learned in the field of addiction, but that's not something he would necessarily care about. It makes no sense."

"I don't know, Sheldon. The strangest part was, when you and I were heading back to see Meemaw, he kept watching us. He seemed especially interested in the fact that we were holding hands."

He frowned. "Why would he stare at that? You're my girlfriend. It is socially acceptable that I would hold your hand."

"Again, Sheldon, I don't know. The only thing we can do is continue on as we have. If he wants something from me, he'll approach me again before I return to Pasadena."

"I don't like it," Sheldon declared, with a swift shake of his head. "He shouldn't be talking to you. You don't know how he is. He often has nefarious reasons for doing what he does. I don't want you around him."

"If he asks for my help, I'm going to give it to him—as much as I can. I can't ignore a plea for assistance. But, don't worry. I'll be fine."

They pulled into the parking lot of the motel. Exiting the car, Sheldon didn't take her pronouncement happily. "Amy, this is my family and you are my girlfriend. Therefore, I am left with no choice but to intervene. I know it is not socially acceptable for a boyfriend to 'lay down the law' as it were with his girlfriend, but I believe the time calls for just that. Therefore, I demand you stay away from George Jr."

Amy had just gotten out and was reaching into the back to get the bags of necessities they'd picked up while out running errands. But, all this was forgotten the second his mandate reached her. She dropped the bags and went around the back of the car where he was pulling out their suitcases full of clean laundry.

"Excuse me? What did you say?"

"There is no need for me to repeat myself," he replied, slamming the trunk. "I spoke at a loud enough decibel level to be more than adequately heard, my words were clearly enunciated, and my meaning could not have been plainer."

A fight between the two of them was the last thing that needed to happen right now, but Amy also knew giving in wasn't the correct move either. "Perhaps we should postpone this discussion until tomorrow morning over breakfast when cooler heads will prevail." She turned on heel and fished the bags from the backseat.

Sheldon waited until she was done before delivering an answer. "That is acceptable, but my dictate stands. I am putting my foot down and, once the proverbial foot has been put down by the dominant male in a relationship, his female mate has no alternative but to acquiesce to his demands."

Amy slammed the door and hit the lock clicker on her keychain. "You're putting your foot in something, Sheldon Cooper. That much is certain."

He nodded and then frowned as he seemed to realize she was not yielding. She didn't wait for him to say anything. Instead, she stormed inside the motel, leaving him to wrestle under the bulky weight of both their suitcases.

She made it to the elevator before he did, watching with a giddy, immature sense of satisfaction when the doors closed right before he made it to her. Once she got to their floor, she flew down the hallway and into her room. The adjoining door between them was open—something she remedied within seconds. She kicked off her shoes, flinging them across the room before attacking her hose.

"Who does he think he is?" she grumbled. "Putting his foot down? The 'female mate has no alternative but to acquiesce'? I don't _think_ so, buddy."

She went into the bathroom, mumbling as she went. A twenty-minute shower later, she felt calmer. Amy wrapped herself in a towel and went back out into her room to put away the shoes that she'd tossed around. It bothered her that she'd given into such a fit of temper.

"But I'm not wrong here. He is," she muttered, stacking her shoes and putting away the soiled hose.

Amy turned to get her nightgown out of the dresser when she realized there was a fatal flaw in her plan to punish Sheldon by making him carry up both suitcases. She had their purchases from the grocery and drug store.

He, however, had all the clean clothes.

"Damn it."

**A/N: I humbly dedicate this chapter to NumbistheNewHigh because she thought I forgot ... and I didn't. : )**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"I should have taken my breasts out while I had the chance."_  
__**Amy Farrah Fowler (TBBT Season 6)**__  
__"The Tenure Turbulence"_

With nothing clean to wear beyond the damp towel currently encircling her form and the dress she'd planned to don for tomorrow's funeral, Amy knew she was out of options. She was going to have to open the adjoining door. Worse, she was going to have to talk to her arrogant, I'm-putting-my-foot-down-like-a-caveman boyfriend.

Straightening her shoulders, she marched over to the door, opened it, and prepared to deal with Sheldon. Instead, she had to deal with another closed door. _He shut his door too?_ That, somehow, irritated her more. She raised her hand and delivered three, short knocks.

The door flew open like he'd been waiting for this moment—_which he probably was_. Sheldon had changed into his Wednesday pajamas and matching bathrobe. He looked relaxed. She also noted with disdain that he looked immensely pleased with himself.

"Hello, Amy," he said with a cocky smirk.

"Hello, Sheldon. You have something that belongs to me."

"Oh?" he asked, eyebrows rounding in mock surprise. He peered around him a bit. His attention purposefully paused on her suitcase, which was standing against the end of his bed, before returning to her. "I don't think so. Everything in here is mine."

She crossed her arms over her chest to keep warm in the air-conditioned environment as well as to hold her unstable covering in place. "You have my suitcase."

He indolently tapped a finger against his chin. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Therefore, as all suitcases in this room are presently in my legal possession, I would say there is nothing in here which belongs to you." Sheldon grabbed the edge of his door and started to swing it closed. "Good night."

She thrust her knee forward to keep the doorway open. "I'm freezing. You have my clothes. I need to get dressed. Stop being a jerk, and give them to me."

Her remark seemed to spur a need for him to judge her state of undress for himself. His gaze roved along her body in a methodical, classifying way that would have made her sizzle with sexual desire only hours before. Now, it just made her angrier. A deep rush of color flooded his cheeks, but not in a way that told her he was embarrassed. No, this was a flush of arousal. After their morning together, she'd recognize it anywhere. She glanced down at herself. Her crossed arms had pushed her bosom upward until they were all but spilling out of the top lip of the towel. Having her knee jammed forward showed quite a bit of her leg up to the side of her hip.

It was her turn to smirk. "As you can see, I'm in nothing but a towel. I need my pajamas or I'll be forced to sleep naked. Is that what you want?"

"You're sleeping naked?" He gulped. "With me?"

With a coy, little grin, Amy leaned in towards him, angling her chest so that her breasts were all but heaving under his sight. She'd read about this maneuver in plenty of romance novels, but had never considered that it might have real life applications. _Good to know._ She waited until he'd all but melted into a pool of testosterone at her feet. Then, she said, "If you don't give me my clothes back, I'm going to be sleeping naked … all alone." She gave a nonchalant shrug. "Wouldn't be the first time."

His mouth sagged open. Sheldon had a boundless imagination. At this moment, it was her greatest weapon. No doubt, from the glaze presently creeping over his eyes, he was imagining her doing just that. "Well?" she prompted. "Do I get my clothes?"

Like a wet dog, he gave himself an all-over body shake like he was trying to force the sexual haze away. He blinked and began an in-depth analysis of the carpet. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. My mother warned me about sirens like you."

"Really?" she breathed, running a finger down his chest to get those eyes back on her. _If he looks at me again, I win._ "And how did she suggest you deal with these sirens?"

He glanced up. "She told me to pray for them and then run away."

"Well?" Amy laughed and sauntered forward. "Are you going to start running now?"

Sheldon cleared his throat. "No," he croaked.

Even as he said this, he scooted back from her in alarm. She stalked forward. He backed up. This little dance continued until he was mere paces from the bed. Just when she'd gotten him firmly where she wanted him, Amy reached over, snatched her suitcase, and turned to flee back through the adjoining door.

Trying to run with a full suitcase while simultaneously holding onto a towel, however, proved cumbersome. It also slowed her down enough to become the undoing of her plan. Sheldon, apparently regaining enough of himself to see what she was about, raced forward, knocked the suitcase from her grasp, and, took her into his arms. The next thing Amy knew, her body was imprisoned by his against the wall.

"That was devious trick," he chided, peering down at her. "I expected better from you." He tsked. "Pathetic. Trying to use your feminine wiles in a feeble attempt to get your way."

She shrugged as she tried to maintain the hold on her covering, which was quickly becoming a vain undertaking. "You left me no choice. Besides, it worked."

"Almost, but not quite." He grinned, seeming to enjoy her current predicament. "And now the tables have turned. You owe me an apology, young lady." He pressed further against her. "I'm not letting you go until I get it."

Amy's earlier anger had waned as her enjoyment in this little game rose. However, that did not mean she wasn't still determined to come out on top here. "An apology? For what?"

"For your refusal to heed my sound directive in regards to my brother, for leaving me to carry in _your_ suitcase as well as my own, and, most recently, for trying to seduce me under false pretenses."

"I see. All serious charges indeed," she concurred with a stoic nod. "What happens if I don't apologize?"

"In addition to keeping your clothes, I could punish you. I have before, you know."

"Ah," Giving up on the towel, she wrapped her arms around his neck "the spanking. That might be nice."

He frowned. "Nice? This time, I will be able to better gauge the adequate force required to assure you don't enjoy yourself."

"Promise?" She smiled and reached up to place a light kiss on his startled lips.

Amy realized her mistake the second she pulled back. At the touch of her mouth on his, Sheldon had surged forward. She automatically opened so he could fit one of his legs in the middle of both of hers. His hardening penis immediately pressed against the top of her hip. These quick successions of movement brought with them an awareness that she hadn't previously experienced. Amy knew Sheldon now, knew every plane of his body by touch and by taste, knew the feel of him inside of her, knew the luscious torture of him moving in carnal tandem with her. Their gazes locked. His breathing hitched. She understood. The awareness was mutual.

He leaned down to capture her mouth in a kiss. She kissed him back, standing on her toes to get better access. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste as well as the all-male flavor that was simply Sheldon. Her tongue slipped between his lips, set on exploring the hot, moist grotto of his mouth.

He groaned and moved his hands down her back to cup her bottom. The towel must have fallen away because she was cognizant of the fact that his hands were touching her bare buttocks. She didn't care. She ripped at the tie of his robe, pushing it off his shoulders. He tossed it away before returning to take her back into his arms. Her arms were around his neck as she pulled him down for another breathless kiss. Between them, he palmed her breasts, kneading and squeezing them until she felt like she would die if she didn't have him inside of her. _Now._ She jumped, landing against his chest and wrapping her legs around his hips.

Sheldon caught her with a grunt of surprise. He held her hips and balanced her weight against the wall as he continued kissing her. Her fingers flew at the buttons of his pajama shirt, pulling it open in an almost panic. He helped her push the shirt away until it lay in a lump behind them. They continued kissing even as her hands moved up beneath his undershirt to stroke his chest.

He had to put her down to whip the shirt off. Amy didn't mind. The second her feet touched the ground, she went to work on his pants, tugging at the waistband and pulling the fabric down his legs. Sheldon kicked himself free of the pants and returned to her.

Somehow, between more fervent kissing and caressing, they made it to the bed, but Amy wasn't sure how. She only knew that she was glad for this development because now she could kiss and touch him all she wanted.

Sheldon nipped at her earlobe before peppering kisses down her neck and her chest. Then, he turned his attention to devouring her breasts. She arched against him, tangling her hands in his hair to keep his mouth where it was. Her legs opened in welcome as his pelvis slipped between her thighs. She cradled him with her body in an attempt to keep him there forever.

His erect penis lodged itself against her vagina. Sheldon rubbed against her. The torment of this maneuver brought with it a sensation so delectable she thought she was going to burst with desire. The only barrier between Amy and what she desperately wanted was a thin layer of white cotton briefs. She whimpered, trying to dislodge the underwear.

"We have to slow down," he moaned. "Too fast. There's a process to this. You're not ready."

She was not going to be denied. "Now, Sheldon. I need you now."

He pulled away from her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, ready to throw him down on the bed and try a position Penny had often said was the one she most favored.

"Condom," he rasped.

Her legs locked back around him, trying to keep him from leaving the bed. "The drug store bag is in my room. There's no way I'm letting you leave me long enough to walk in there. I'm ready to explode as it is, Sheldon Cooper."

He pressed a quick, consolatory kiss in between her breasts. "My wallet is right here," he said, reaching over to the bedside table to grab it.

"You already put the condoms in your wallet? We just bought them this afternoon."

He looked down at her as if she'd lost her mind. "I promised my father, Amy."

"Right." _Makes perfect sense,_ she thought, observing with impatience as he tore off the condom package and rolled it on. Thankfully, he was back in her arms within another minute. He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She met his plunge with one of her own and wrapped her arms back around his neck. They continued to kiss in a craze, as if they couldn't get enough of each other.

He broke away to return to her breasts, but Amy was beyond impatience. She reached between them, grabbing his rigid member. "Now, Sheldon."

After a few heated strokes, he was putty in her hands. So, with a swift maneuver, he positioned himself at her entrance and drove home with a long, satisfied groan.

The pain took her by surprise. It was a stinging soreness that became worse when Sheldon began to piston in and out of her. After one ardent thrust, she couldn't help but whimper. "Ow."

He immediately stopped, staring down at her in concern. "What's the matter?" he panted.

"It hurts. I don't understand."

He pulled out of her, his face twisting at the effort it was taking for him to not rush towards his own satisfaction. Looking down, his ran his hand over her vagina, slipping a finger inside. After a moment, he looked up at her with a frown. "As I suspected, you're not ready," he said.

"I felt ready. I want you so badly."

He moaned again, burying his face in her neck in an apparent attempt to keep himself in control. "I want you, too." His finger started to move within her while his thumb rubbed against her clitoris. "But coitus is a process, not a race, woman."

Amy didn't even have it in her to argue with him. She was too busy enjoying these new attentions. Sheldon seemed to know just the right amount of pressure to deliver and just where to …

"Oh, God. Right there!" She shivered as her head fell back against the pillow in sweet surrender. He was Mozart, and she was his very willing piano. Sheldon stroked and caressed her until she could feel her own slickness as his fingers moved inside her.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted, arching against him.

Then, it stopped. Blearily, she looked up at him in outrage. In that moment, he slipped back between her thighs and replaced his fingers with his penis. This time, when he thrust inside her, it was a most welcome, heady invasion.

Her hands gripped at his shoulders as her heels dug into his lower back, driving him onward. Her head fell back again. Sheldon rained kisses along her neck as he pumped within her. "_Jesus._ Oh, Amy," he grunted.

"Love you. Yes—Oh God—Keep going. Faster. Love you. Don't stop," Amy sobbed, closing her eyes against the onslaught of pleasure building within her. The corkscrew inside of her was tightening at an alarming pace, promising a climax with a harder edge than she'd ever previously experienced—if she could just reach it. "Please, Sheldon," she begged.

"Yes," he wheezed, rocking into her with almost mindless abandon.

After another few shoves, she spiraled out of control. Everything inside of her seemed to break apart at once as she was flooded with an orgasm so intense she could barely stand it. She whimpered under the crushing weight of such pleasure, such passion. As he continued to move within her, she was rewarded every now and again with little aftershocks of bliss.

Amy opened her eyes and started to come back to herself when Sheldon stiffened overhead. His sweaty body quaked as he achieved his own orgasm. His head tilted backwards as he groaned and released within her. His face contorted beautifully before relaxing into peace.

She held him to her, content to never move again. His eyes finally opened and he stared down at her. "Amy," he whispered in awe.

She ran a hand along his cheek. "I love you."

He smiled. "I—I—" Instead of finishing, he leaned down to kiss her.

When he was done and tried to roll away from her, she refused to let him leave. Instead, cradling his face in her hands, she stared up at him, and said, "Why can't you just tell me? You feel it. I know you do."

He stared back, pain and anguish in his expression. "I—I'm sorry. I want to, but I—" He exhaled heavily. "I can't."

She caressed his cheek, trying to ignore the disappointment welling within her. "I'll be patient. Don't worry. You will."

The anguish seemed to be replaced with confusion, but she ignored that as she kissed him. He returned her kiss with one of his own. When he broke off and started kissing his way over to her ear, she grinned and said, "You know, we didn't have all of this scheduled."

He broke away to frown down at her. "Your point being?"

"If we schedule coitus, we'll miss out on wonderful opportunities like this one." She dug her heels into his back, which moved him inside of her—something that left them both trembling. "There is something to be said for spontaneity."

"You're dangerous when you get spontaneous," he reproved. "Not only did you try to talk me out of using a condom, but you also ended up making me hurt you because I wasn't given time to adequately prepare you. If anything, I would think this instance would give further credence to my idea to schedule our intimate sessions. Think how much you could enjoy the experience if we are given enough opportunity to plan."

"As I'm new to intercourse and I wanted you so badly, I didn't realize the act could be painful if I wasn't properly … ready. Lesson learned. As for the condom, I'm on birth control. There is no need for it, too."

"Birth control isn't always enough. What if you were to become pregnant? Did you think of that?"

She shrugged. "I love you. You're it for me. Carrying a child with both of our genetic material would be a wonderful thing—not only for us, but for the world at large."

He sighed and rolled away from her. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

He sat up on the side of the bed, his back to her. "We're not married, Amy."

"We could be."

Sheldon turned to look at her, his countenance guarded. "Is that what you want? Now that we've become physical, you want me to marry you and get you with child?"

"Would that really be so bad?"

His mouth tightened into a grimace. "Then what? We'll live happily ever after? What about my dreams and goals for life? Do you remember any of that or are you more interested in the fairy tale? I may not be Spock, but I'm not Prince Charming either. I'm the man who has to think about it every time he wants to touch you. I'm the man who's always going to be afraid of what's going to happen next, what new threat is on the horizon. My life is ruled by fear, Amy. Can you understand that? I'm the man who must have a plan just to function. I abhor change of any kind, and I always will. None of that went away because of what we've done in this bed."

"I know that." She sat up and reached for him. "I love you. I don't want you to change."

He shrugged off her hand. "You keep saying that, but it isn't true. Not really. You want more. You'll always want more. You wanted coitus. I gave you that. Now, you tell me you love me and expect me to say the same. Next, you'll want marriage, a baby … more, more, more. And, with each change, I will get further away from what _I want_. Let me tell you something, Amy Farrah Fowler, I don't want to change. I like my life as it is. I like my apartment and my roommate and my job and my routine. It might be considered overscheduled and rigid to some, but I like it just the way it is. Did you think about that?"

"Sheldon," she said, pulling her legs up against her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees, "I love you, and I accept all of you. If you don't want to get married, that's fine. If you don't want to have kids, that's fine. I love you. That's all that matters."

"No, Amy, it isn't all that matters. You matter, too. You want all these things, things you have every right to want. I know that. I just don't think I can give them to you. I've tried to imagine it. Believe me, I have. But, I can't do it. It's too much, and I can't handle it," he said, pressing a fist against his forehead.

"You've already come so far. I'm your exception. Remember? You love me, Sheldon. You just have to trust in that and trust in me. We can work the rest out."

His hand fell away and he finally looked at her, a tear running down his cheek. "If I loved you half as much as you seem to think I do, I wouldn't be so selfish. This would be easy. But, I am selfish, and I always will be."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

"Do you hear yourself when you say these things?"_  
__**Stuart Bloom (TBBT Season 6)**__  
__"The Santa Simulation"_

_He didn't mean it. He's just scared. Sheldon will come around._

Somehow, repeating this over and over to herself offered little consolation.

It took Amy a few minutes to locate her glasses. They were on the bedside table. Apparently, somewhere in the middle of their dalliance, Sheldon had folded them and placed them there. It took a little more time for her to gather the courage to leave the bed and even longer than that to stop crying.

Sheldon, however, had no such problem. After decreeing his selfishness to the world, he had left her alone, picked up his clothes off the floor, and locked himself in the bathroom. As she could hear the shower running, she knew he would be in there for a while.

On shaky feet, she grabbed her suitcase and returned to her room. After a quick re-shower, she dressed in a nightgown and panties. She ran a comb through her tangled hair, but debated whether or not she should have washed it. Drying it, at least, would have given her something to do besides dwell over the fact that her boyfriend couldn't just admit he was in love with her.

She exited the bathroom, noting through the open adjoining door that Sheldon was still locked away. Her phone buzzed from its position on the bedside table, and she realized she hadn't checked it since earlier. No surprise, there were two missed calls from Penny as well as a text message.

"Everything all right there?" Penny had written.

Amy considered telling her the real story, but realized that it would take more than one text message to adequately convey all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. There was also the lingering issue of Sheldon's wish for privacy when discussing their intimate lives. How could she let Penny in on what was going on without telling her they'd had coitus? There was no way. She sighed and typed a quick message to her bestie so at least she wouldn't worry.

"All is well here. Sorry I missed your call earlier. The viewing was tonight, and the funeral is tomorrow. I'll call tomorrow after we return to the motel."

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

"Sheldon doing OK?"

Amy sighed, hating that she had no one to talk to about this except for a stubborn man who evidently wasn't coming out of the bathroom tonight. She typed another message. "He's struggling with this, but he'll be fine. I'll get him through."

The second she hit "send," she felt a little better. Even though she hadn't meant to include their current crisis in the text, it still covered it. Sheldon was struggling, and he would get through this because she would be there. He would come around. He had to. Right?

_But what if he doesn't? What if he's the one who's right? _

She put the phone down as she took a seat on the side of the bed. Her mind replayed the conversation between them over and over. Was what he said true? Was she trying to mold him into something he couldn't be? It didn't take her long to realize who was really to blame here.

"My fault," she softly cried. "I pushed him again. Why do I keep doing that? Why can't I just be happy with what he's able to give me? I thought I was. But, he's right. I _do_ want more." She wiped at the tears on her face with the back of one sleeve, wrapped her arms around her torso, and rocked back and forth.

From the very beginning, her relationship with Sheldon had an element of the adversarial. They'd recognized in each other a central equality, a sameness of character, drive, and intellect that naturally drew them closer together. However, this same equality was matched with a darker inequality. Yes, as many traits, opinions, and interests as the two shared, there were several that they didn't. Amy looked back on that time, remembering all the instances where Sheldon would spout off about this rule or that one or about comic books, science fiction, trains or any of the others various things he adored that she was usually unimpressed by. Had there been a time—consciously, at least—when she had decided to change him? She hadn't thought so, but surely there must be.

Amy sighed. If so, she certainly wouldn't be the first woman to try to change a man—to smooth out the rough spots as it were. She supposed it was expected in any relationship. But, at the same time, Sheldon was as stubborn and as resistant to change as they come. Most people in his life recognized this and gave him pushes when they were needed. In fact, if Howard and Raj hadn't pushed him to meet her in the first place, she wouldn't even know him now. She supposed if Penny hadn't insisted Sheldon take her out on their initial date, they would only be communicating via Skype, email, and text. And, if Amy had never gone out with Stuart, would Sheldon have ever asked her to be his girlfriend?

_No. He wouldn't. See? Sheldon needs pushes in his life. It helps him. This is a fact._

She gave a quick nod of agreement. But, surprisingly, the righteous indignation she should have been reveling in was tempered with something that felt a lot like shame. _You promised to stop pushing him when it came to love. You said you would accept him like he was, and let him come to you on his own time. But, you didn't, did you? No. You kept pushing and now you have succeeded in pushing him away._

Amy was divided. On one hand, she was frustrated because she knew he loved her and only wanted him to admit it. _That's all I want._ On the other, there was a little voice scolding her because it knew that wasn't the whole truth. _OK. Fine._ _I admit it._ _I want it all. With him. The marriage, the kids, the house–all of it. So what? Is that so wrong? Everyone wants it all—and we could have it if he would only stop being so stubborn._

"But, what if he's right? What if he never does want to get married? What if he never wants to have kids? What if all we ever have is what we have right this minute? Am I truly all right with that?"

She'd thought she was. But, looking at it now, Amy knew the answer. She'd never really believed he wouldn't eventually come around to her way of thinking. Sheldon always came around … eventually.

_What if he doesn't this time?_

She considered something far worse. "What if it's too late and I've already succeeded in pushing him away for good?"

A white-hot jolt of fear shot through her. Sheldon may not be good at picking up on things about other people, but when it came to himself, he wasn't as blind. He'd accepted the truth about himself years ago. He knew who he was and what he wanted. He'd always known.

"Who am I to come in and tell him differently? Who am I to decide on what the priority of his dreams should be or how he should live his life? Only he knows that."

Amy put herself in his shoes. There were things she wanted out of her future, discoveries she wanted to make, avenues she wanted to explore, experiences she wanted to … experience. Marriage and children wouldn't stand in the way of her dreams. She could have it all. She'd always assumed the same for Sheldon. But what if she was wrong? What if marriage and children did indeed take him on a path away from his beloved Nobel Prize? Was being in love with her worth the loss of that dream? Was it even up to her to decide that?

"He's selfish and stubborn?" She gave a bitter laugh. "I'm far more selfish and stubborn than he'll ever be."

She wiped the tears from her face and went into the bathroom. She wet a washcloth and cleaned her cheeks, barely able to look at herself in the mirror. Even though she had physically destroyed the digital version of the relationship trajectory chart, she'd been arrogantly keeping it going in her head the whole time, ticking off progress and milestones as they reached them and plotting her way to the next marker. It would be the major scientific accomplishment of her life and career. How many times had she told herself that?

_Is that what he is to you? Some kind of experiment?_

She buried her face in the cold, wet cloth and wept.

_No, I love him. I truly love him._

But, as much as that was true, it didn't wash away her sins. She knew that, accepted it. She'd been no better than everyone else in Sheldon's life. Trying to make him fit into a mold he didn't belong in. He was unique. He was special. He didn't see things like everyone else. It was what she loved most about him. But, in the end, that love hadn't changed her actions one bit.

She looked up at herself in the mirror. "With all that your family has put you through, how could you do that to him?"

How many times had her mother insinuated that she wasn't good enough? _You're not getting any younger, Amy. You need a husband or, at the very least, a boyfriend. Don't you care what everyone thinks about you? They keep asking me if you're a lesbian or a hermit or something._

How many times had her family rebuked her for her life choices? _What are you, some kind of freak? What girl likes science? Don't you care that everyone thinks you're a nerd? Who's ever gonna want you?_

"Sheldon wanted me."

And he had. Even when she was stiff and gawky and nervous and overly formal and told him point-blank that she would never allow him to touch her in any way. Every other man she'd ever said that to had run the first chance he got.

Sheldon asked to buy her a drink.

She'd always loved how much and how easily he had accepted her. How he delighted in the way she was. How he called her a "vixen" and "brilliant" and "exceptional." Sure, he chided her more often than one would like and he certainly was stubborn about getting his way. But, at no time had he ever tried to change her. He might look at her like she was crazy whenever she did something he didn't approve of, but he always accepted her nonetheless.

"I owe him nothing less than the same,"she murmured. His voice replayed in her head.

_You matter, too. You want all these things, things you have every right to want. I know that. I just don't think I can give them to you._

What if he was right? What if marriage and children weren't something he could ever offer her? Was what they had, right here and right now, enough?

"Yes."

Her heart swelled with the knowledge. It had always been true. But, now this truth was unfettered by an echoing hope that Sheldon would somehow change his mind and come around to her way of thinking. She didn't even consider it anymore. _I love him. I just want him. Anyway I can have him. It's enough._

And, with that, all thoughts of girlish fantasies and relationship trajectory charts faded away. In their place was the firm image of her and Sheldon happy together. Smiling, talking, debating, negotiating, kissing, loving, and just being themselves … together. No more tolerating things for now while hoping for better later. This was seeing things as they truly were and accepting them … forever.

_It's enough._

She sniffed and wet the cloth again. After wringing it out, she washed her face. When she was done, she knew it was time to find Sheldon. She turned off the light and exited the bathroom, startled to find him sitting on her bed.

He took one look at her swollen face and jumped to his feet, rushing to her side. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that to you."

Sheldon tried to take her into his arms, but she wouldn't let him. There were things to be said before he touched her. Things he needed to hear.

"Why are you sorry? It was all true. Don't ever apologize for telling me the truth."

When he realized the futility of touching her, his hands dropped hopelessly to his sides. She could see the fear creeping in his eyes. "You're leaving me, aren't you? I can do better. I can try harder. I—"

She closed the distance between them, pressing her fingers against his rambling mouth. "Shh … I'm not leaving you, Sheldon. I'll never leave you. I love you."

A tear rolled down his cheek. "You're not leaving me?" He still looked panicked. "Why not? I can't give you what you want, what you deserve. But I can try. I promise—"

"You give me everything I need just by being you, Sheldon Cooper. I don't need anything more. If you can promise to always be there for me like you are right now, that's enough."

"But what about marriage? Children and … love?" The last word came out as almost a whisper.

"You love me. You do. But you don't have to tell me. Ever." She exhaled, heavily. "I mean that. If I ever need to know, I only have to look at you. It's in your actions, in your smile, in your eyes when you look at me, in your kiss, in your touch, and in the fact that you are standing here right now trying to force yourself into promising something you obviously don't want … all to keep me with you." Her voice trembled and broke as she cried. "I love you. You're here, and you've given me everything you can. No one can ask for more than that. And, I swear, it is enough. I don't need any more. If we get married down the road, fine. If we don't, I don't care. I feel the same whether it be in regards to babies or living together or anything else that society says we need to do in order to prove how much we mean to each other. I don't need any of it. I love you, and you love me. That's all I need. It's all I'll ever need."

He crushed her to him, holding her harder than she'd ever been held. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sobbed into his chest. He cried with her. They held on this way, crying and comforting each other. She rubbed his back, telling him over and over again how much she loved him. He caressed the back of her head and kissed her hair. Finally, she looked up at him and he gazed down at her.

Tears were trapped in his eyelashes and his face was blotchy and mottled, but she thought he'd never looked more handsome. She smiled. He smiled back, caressing her cheek and looking at her as if he were the luckiest person in the world. But he wasn't. She was.

He leaned down and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to her lips. "Thank you, Amy," he said, pulling her back into his arms with a hug. "Thank you for loving me."

She hugged him back, relishing the feeling of being in his arms. It was something she would never take for granted.

"I want you again. So much," he whispered against her ear. "But I'm exhausted. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

She pulled back. "I'd prefer to cuddle, actually. Is that all right?"

"Yes. That is acceptable. Is it OK for us to sleep in your bed?"

"Of course," she said, knowing he was worried about germs from their activities on the other bed. "Do you have everything you need?"

He nodded.

"Then, let's go to bed. We both have to be up early in the morning, and I want you to hold me for as long as you can."

They turned out the lights except for the lamp on Sheldon's side and climbed into bed together. She took off her glasses and set them on the bedside table. He settled onto his back, and she draped herself across his chest. _No matter where I am_, she thought, _this is home._ She snuggled against him. He stroked her forehead and sighed contentedly next to her. They stayed this way for a long time. Not speaking. Just existing … together. Her mind wandered, not staying on any one subject for long.

"Are you still nervous about tomorrow?" she asked.

"A little, but more because I don't want to mess up Meemaw's words than any kind of stage fright."

"You'll do fine. I'll be there."

He squeezed her. "I know. That makes it better."

She smiled into his chest, blissfully cocooned in this wonderful moment with him.

"Amy?" he asked as she was about to doze off.

"Yes?"

"What about George Jr.? And scheduling coitus?"

Her mind cleared of sleep. She sat up and turned to look at him. "I've been thinking about that. I propose a compromise."

"I'm listening."

"I know you have your reasons for believing George to be up to no good. As you are his brother, I will concede that you know him far better than I do. However, I cannot—in good conscience—turn my back on someone in need." When he looked ready to protest, she rushed ahead. "But, I will promise that, if he should approach me again, I will make sure our conversation happens around others. I won't speak to him alone or go off anywhere with him. Is this agreeable?"

He considered it for a moment. She could tell by the tightening of his mouth that he didn't like it. But, in the end, he said, "Yes, that is acceptable."

She considered her words carefully before beginning her second proposal. She wanted them both firmly on the same page. "As far as coitus goes, I will agree to you scheduling a few sessions a month. However, there should be a caveat that if one or both of the parties is not 'in the mood' as it were, then—schedule or no—the coitus does not take place."

"Of course," he said.

"By the same rule, if, on a night that does not include pre-scheduled coitus, both parties are interested in taking part in intercourse, they can without issue. Moreover, if only the party of the first part is feeling particularly amorous, he or she has the right to try to persuade the party of the second part to engage."

He was thinking again. She bit her lip, wondering if he would approve.

"As long as the party of the second part can decline without penalty," he said, "I will agree to this."

She sighed. "Good." And, with that, she snuggled back in his arms. His heart thumped evenly under her ear. Amy smiled, taking comfort in the stalwart sound.

"I will make the changes to the relationship agreement once we return to Pasadena," he said.

"Good," she repeated.

His hand went back to stroking her head. There was no noise beyond his heart, their breathing and the low hum of the air conditioner running. Her mind wandered again, and she was soon lulled back into another state of drowsiness.

"Amy?"

Her eyes popped open. "Huh?"

"Did you fall asleep?"

She rubbed her eyes. "I think so. Sorry."

"Can we stop cuddling now? You're obviously tired, and I can't possibly achieve my nightly REM cycles with you on top of me like this. My arm is going numb from lack of adequate circulation."

She nodded and moved away from him, trying to calm the bereft feeling washing over her. _Stop it_, she told herself. _He's being honest. Real people can't sleep like that all night._

She moved back on her side of the bed, pulling the covers up to her chest and fluffing the pillow under her head. Surprisingly, Sheldon leaned over her.

"Good night," he murmured, dropping a delicate kiss on her lips.

It was over before she had a chance to really process what had happened. Still, she couldn't stop the grin widening over her face. "Good night," she returned, turning over and trying to get comfortable.

He flicked off the bedside lamp, and the room went black. He settled back in the bed, fussing with the covers until he apparently had all as he needed. She'd almost drifted off a third time when he called her name again.

"Yes, Sheldon?" she asked, wondering what it could be now. She hadn't started thrashing around in her sleep, had she?

"Give me your hand," he said.

She felt him feeling around for it in the dark. She smiled again and, rolling onto her back, intercepted his roving hand. He laced their fingers together and rested their joined hands on his chest. Then, with a well-satisfied sigh, Sheldon Cooper went to sleep.

With a grin still on her face, Amy Farrah Fowler soon joined him.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

"What's rattling around in that big, bulbous brain of yours?"_  
__**Amy Farrah Fowler (TBBT Season 4)**__  
__"The Agreement Dissection"_

Amy fell asleep to silence. She woke up to wookies.

Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed, automatically looking over at Sheldon's side. It was empty. She whipped around to the alarm clock. It was almost six in the morning.

"Sheldon?"

An animal-like cry came from the other room. She probably would have been concerned for her boyfriend had the noise not been followed by what sounded like people arguing and the _pew pew _of some kind of gunfire.

It had to be the television.

Putting on her glasses, Amy left the bed and opened the adjoining door, which had been pushed almost closed. "Sheldon?" she called, padding into the room.

"Yes?" He was in a chair strategically placed at the end of the bed, dressed in his black suit pants and baby blue dress shirt. When Sheldon saw her, he immediately muted the sound on the television. "Did I wake you?"

"Yes. Why are you up so early?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't sleepy anymore." There was a slight twitch below his left eye. "In any case, I didn't mean to wake you. I thought I had the sound sufficiently reduced as to not interfere with the completion of your final REM cycles. I will lower the volume more, if you like. Please return to bed. You do not look sufficiently rested for the kind of day we will be enduring."

He didn't outright mention the impending funeral. So, neither did she. Over on the table, his laptop was open. She could see that one of the webpages he had up seemed to offer advice on public speaking in especially large groups. He followed the direction of her gaze before dropping his head to the floor in something akin to shame. "It's nothing," he said.

Amy considered quickly what she should do. She didn't like that he'd felt the need to hide his obvious apprehension, but she at least understood why he did it. _No matter the species or the man, male pride prevailed. _She grabbed the chair that was near the far wall and planted it next to his. It was colder than she would have liked in the room, but she didn't want to leave him just now—not even to get her robe. "What are you watching?" she asked, sitting down and turning her attention to the television as if she hadn't noticed the laptop at all.

"_The Empire Strikes Back_," he answered.

"Is that one of the movies from _Star Trek_?"

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Amy, how can you proclaim to be in love with me and not know the difference between _Star Wars_ and _Star Trek_?"

She grinned. "Probably for the same reason you refuse to watch _Magic Mike_ with me. It simply isn't interesting enough."

"How can you possibly compare those two? _Magic Mike_ is nothing more than cheap titillation while the _Star Wars_ and _Star Trek_ franchises are rich in character-driven—"

She laughed and held up a hand to ward off the lecture he was warming to. "_Star Wars_ has light sabers, and _Star Trek_ has Spock. Correct?"

Sheldon nodded, appearing slightly mollified. "It's probably best that you awoke early. I checked my phone earlier and found a text from Missy from last night. Mom wants the immediate family to have breakfast at the house before the … you know."

"OK. When are we supposed to be there?"

"8:30."

"All right. Do you mind if I watch this with you in the meantime?"

"No," he replied. "Are you sure you want to?"

"I don't mind," she said with a smile. "Especially if I'm with you."

He regarded her inquisitively for a long minute before unmuting the television. They watched without further conversation for a while. Amy had never been able to follow all the ends and out of the _Star Wars _saga—there were six movies to keep up with, after all. Not to mention that it had always seemed like a big, male soap opera to her. But, the one thing she did enjoy was the Princess Leia/Han Solo love story subplot. So, as those two characters were currently bantering their way through an asteroid field, she didn't find it hard to pay attention.

When she snickered at a particularly funny barb traded between the characters, Sheldon asked, "You actually like this now? Where is my girlfriend and what have you done with her?"

"I don't like it. But, I do like Han Solo. He's quite charming." She waggled her eyebrows for affect. "Not to mention … naughty."

Sheldon looked curiously from her to the television a few times. Then, as if something had clicked into place in his mind, he scoffed. "Of course you like Han Solo. He's a pirate. You love pirates."

She giggled at his deduction. "You might be right about that."

"Of course I am," he retorted.

They returned their attention to the rebels flying away from some kind of giant space snake. She peeked over at Sheldon from time to time. He didn't appear as engrossed in the movie as he usually was, but he also didn't seem as worried as he had been before. _Good_, she thought, starting to relax.

"I'm not a pirate," he announced out of nowhere, taking her hand in his and peering down at it.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she argued. He traced a finger over her palm, as if intent on exploring every pore and crevice. Her skin tingled in response. "You can certainly be quite the scoundrel when you want to be. And as I love you and I love pirates, logic dictates that you must be a pirate."

"Excuse me?" he said, looking up in alarm. "Your logic is flawed. You also love bananas. Because you love me, does that make me a piece of fruit? I think not." He leaned back into his chair, taking her hand with him. "I'm a Southern gentleman, a conqueror, a knight, a hero—sometimes a rogue night elf—and—always—a genius. That's it."

She shrugged. "Agree to disagree." Her breathing hitched as both his hands enveloped hers. He'd apparently taken note of her freezing digits as he was now idly chafing the warmth back into them. Amy couldn't help thinking he was quite the pirate—whether he was aware of it or not. Pirates were notorious seducers of women, after all, and, by just touching her hand, Sheldon Cooper was well on his way to having her announce _Star Wars_ to be the greatest movie franchise in existence.

She tried to focus on the screen before her. Silence reigned between them until they got to the part where Han Solo was facing possible death by carbonite at the hands of the dreaded empire. Princess Leia declared her love for the rapscallion. When he responded with the racy, "I know" remark instead of the more traditional "I love you, too," Amy sighed. Not so much because of the scene, but because her boyfriend had laid their now-joined hands across his knee and was lazily running the pad of his thumb over her wrist.

Sheldon, however, mistook her reaction and shook his head in disdain. "Pirates," he muttered.

She didn't bother to correct him. She was too busy enjoying this little flash of jealousy. It was certainly better than how he'd been before. The movie continued. But, once the dashing Captain Solo was out of commission, Amy quickly lost interest. As it was nearing seven, she decided to get ready for the day.

Sheldon didn't seem inclined to let her go—something that made her want to sigh again. She tugged at her hand, telling him she needed to get ready if they were going to be to his mother's on time.

"You're right," he said, finally releasing her, but not looking at all happy about it.

She reached down and delivered a quick, but effective kiss.

When she pulled away, he blinked, a little disoriented and taken aback.

_I love that he still gets that way_, she thought with a roguish grin of her own.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Because you needed a reboot, because I love you, and because I know you're going to do just fine at the funeral. I have faith in you, Sheldon Cooper—just as Meemaw did. And, you're not alone in this. I'm with you and always will be. Don't ever forget that."

He looked up at her, startled. Then, his face smoothed in understanding. "I see what you did there. You were trying to get my mind off my worry by pretending to like _Star Wars_ and getting me thinking about other things," he declared.

She gave a playful shrug. "It worked, didn't it?"

He didn't smile. Instead, he wore the oddest expression as his eyes all but burned into hers. It was as if he was working through a difficult equation and not liking the answers he was getting. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face, too fast for her to be able to separate or define.

"What?" she asked, worrying he was getting all worked up again.

He glanced down at his hands, now clenched in his lap. "Nothing," he said, scowling as if he were supremely aggravated with himself.

_This has to be about Meemaw._ But, even as she thought that, she knew it didn't make complete sense. _But, then again, when did grief ever make sense?_

"All right. If you're sure," she said. When he agreed, she had no other option than to return to her room to get dressed.

— —

Amy made it her job to keep his mind off the impending funeral. She spent the drive to his mother's trying to engage him in every car game she could think of. None of it seemed to help. If anything, he got more subdued with each passing minute. Finally, she gave up and left him alone, figuring he probably needed quiet to work his mind around this. Amy could certainly understand that. She wasn't looking forward to this funeral herself. It was still a shock that such an effervescent woman like Meemaw was now gone from the world. Amy ached to have her near again. _Goodness knows how Sheldon must feel._

"Amy?" he asked out of the blue.

"Yes?"

"Do the Fowlers have family reunions?"

She was taken aback by this."Y-yes," she answered, trying to clear the surprise from her throat. "It happens in late August, I think. The Bennett family reunion, which is on my mother's side, took place last month. Since my father's death, though, we usually only go to the Bennett's."

"Why have you never tried to force me to attend with you?"

_Is that what he thinks I would do?_ It took a moment for that to sink it. _Of course he would. _"I won't force you to do anything, Sheldon. I told you. I don't want to push you anymore. Not romantically. Whatever we decide to do in this relationship, we decide together. We're equals in this. Equal votes. Unanimous decisions. OK?"

He nodded, but didn't seem as relieved as she thought he would be.

— —

It was 45 minutes before the funeral and the parking lot behind Bethel Baptist Church was already full to overflowing. Amy and Sheldon had a hard time finding a place to park, but managed to squeeze into a space next to his mother's car. Even though it was still morning, the heat was already crushing, coming off the asphalt in hazy waves. There were people everywhere, many queuing up to get into the church while others congregated in small clusters in the parking lot. Amy felt a rush of anxiety hit her. _If_ _I'm this nervous_, she thought, _how must Sheldon feel?_ He'd seemed calmer and more like his usual self throughout breakfast, but now that they were here … She smoothed down the eyelet collar of her navy blue dress and went over to straighten Sheldon's silver necktie.

"Stop fussing over me. I'm fine," he assured her.

"No, you're not. You've been acting strange morning. Tell me what's bothering you. Is it Meemaw? The letter? If you don't think you can read it, I'm sure your mom could find someone else. I'll even do it for you if you want."

He looked startled that she would even suggest this. "Meemaw requested this of me, Amy. Therefore, I am honor-bound to do it. I'll admit I was a little nervous this morning as it occurred to me that the church would probably be filled to capacity. Given the turnout from last night's viewing, there are bound to be more than thirty-five people in there—well above my trample rule. But, I have accepted the inevitability that I must complete this task."

She nodded, knowing there was nothing more to be said on the matter. Her gut still nagged at her, but she repressed it. _It's his grandmother's funeral. How did you expect him to act? She wasn't even your Meemaw and you've been near to tears all morning._

Amy looked up, noticing that Sheldon was studying her. "What?" she asked.

"Your face is quite aesthetically pleasing."

He said that matter-of-factly, his eyes locking intently with hers as he waggled his eyebrows. Amy's heart stuttered. She blushed, looked away, and all her thoughts scattered to the wind. That is, until she heard his breathy chuckle. Then, she realized that he had just done to her what she'd done to him this morning—trying to distract her from her worry. It was as close to traditional male flirting as Sheldon Cooper was ever going to get, but she loved it nonetheless.

She grinned. "I see what you did there."

Sheldon laughed again and gave an arrogant shrug. "It worked didn't it?"

"Pirate," she accused, chidingly.

He considered the matter for a moment before beaming. "Maybe I am, after all," he said.

"Sheldon!" Missy exclaimed from the front step of the church. "Come on. The pall bearers are meeting around back."

"Be right there," he called back before turning to Amy.

"You go on ahead," she said. "I'll find a seat inside."

He nodded. "See you after." Then, he turned back to begin his solo walk across the parking lot.

"Sheldon?" she said.

He paused, looking over his shoulder. As there were people around and she didn't want to embarrass him, she hurried to him. "I love you," she whispered, wanting to give him one last bit of comfort.

He smiled, leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart, and whispered back, "I know."

Then, with a saucy wink, he pivoted and trotted around to the back of the church.

Amy couldn't help but laugh, even though everyone around her was looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. She didn't care. She just smiled to herself and said, "Pirate indeed."

— —

The church vestibule looked like it had been painted with Pepto Bismol. From the flowers to the carpet to the cushions on the rows of wooden pews, pink was everywhere. Although there was no way the church had planned it, Amy liked the idea that Meemaw's favorite color was everywhere. It seemed fitting somehow. She tried to find a seat, but Missy intercepted her at the last minute, dragging her into one of the back rooms where the immediate family had gathered to make their entrance.

"I shouldn't be here," Amy protested.

"Mama said go get you. I do as I'm told." Missy crossed her arms over her chest and gave Amy a knowing grin. "You gotta problem with it, take it up with her." She leaned in to hiss, "I dare you."

"But, I'm not immediate family. I'm just Sheldon's girlfriend."

Missy shrugged. "So what? Greg would be back here with me right now if he didn't have to help pass out bulletins."

"But—"

"Amy Fowler," Mary interrupted, using the universal I-am-mother-hear-me-roar tone. "You're with us for better or for worse. Get over it."

Amy's response was automatic. "Yes, ma'am."

Mary nodded, satisfied. "Glad to hear it." Then, she resumed her conversation with her sister.

_Oh, God_, Amy thought, _I've truly become one of them._ She didn't know if that made her happy or disturbed. But, she wasn't left to ponder it for long because the processional music was starting.

Thus, to an old hymn she didn't recognize, Amy marched out with the other members of the immediate family and ended up sitting on the front pew between Mary and Missy. Mary patted her knee, and, instead of feeling as out of place as a patella on a brain scan, Amy was oddly comforted.

The closed casket gleamed in front of them, covered in its spray pink roses. Pots and baskets of flowers, ferns, and other plants bookended the coffin—including the daisies from her and Sheldon. If an abundance of fauna was an indicator of devotion, Meemaw was very loved indeed.

Amy looked to the left where the pall bearers were seated together across the way until she found her boyfriend. Sheldon was looking down. She strained her neck and saw that he was staring at an envelope in his hands. No doubt, that was Meemaw's letter. She stared at him for a long time, trying to almost will him to look up at her, but he seemed too intent on the letter to do so. George, however, had no such issue. He caught her eye and sent her a stately nod followed by an asshole smirk. No doubt, such a combination that had left many a woman giddy. For Amy, it was insulting. He was obviously trying to make her uncomfortable and out of sorts. She stared defiantly back at him, letting him know in no uncertain terms how unimpressed by his juvenile behavior she was. Then, she turned her attention back to Sheldon, but he never did look up.

Soon enough, she was forced to face forward. The pastor took his place at the pulpit and started the service, thanking all for their attendance and opening with a prayer. Without missing a beat or showing an ounce of nerves, Missy left her side a minute or so later and took a microphone.

"This is for Meemaw," she announced and waited on the organist to begin playing.

Amy was floored by what happened next. Other people used their lungs and diaphragm to push a melody out the audience, holding notes with precision and pulling back at exactly the right moment. Missy just sang. Her voice was throaty, unpretentious and so expressive that it was like she'd ripped out her very heart and set it on an altar before them. A tear drifted down her cheek, but it only enhanced her performance. One couldn't help but feel Missy's anguish and determination as she proclaimed not only her allegiance to an old, rugged cross, but to honoring the memory of a most beloved grandmother.

There wasn't a dry eye in the house when she finished. Missy returned the microphone and took her seat, earning an appreciative pat on the knee from her mother. Amy wiped furiously at her face with the wad of tissue in her hand, trying to keep her emotions inside. This became a constant and almost vain struggle as she sat through a poem from the twins Hannah and Hazel as well as Ginny's presentation of Meemaw's eulogy.

It was so strange that a vibrant woman like Meemaw could be captured in a few simple paragraphs, but Ginny had done an admirable job. It was the end especially that left Amy really choked up.

"And, so, here we are all assembled to pay homage to Virginia Elizabeth Williams Darcy or—as she was better known—the one and only Meemaw. Because, of all the monikers she has carried throughout the years, this is one she loved best. And even though she has gone on to a better place, she hasn't forgotten those she left behind. No, she bequeaths to all of us the characteristics which served her so faithfully throughout her life. Steadfast family loyalty, a dedicated work ethic, and unconditional love. These keepsakes remain as a testament to her for all who loved her, and, if we live with these tokens close to our hearts, she will never truly be gone."

_This funeral is going to be the death of me_, Amy thought, wiping away more tears. _Get it together, Fowler. You're here for Sheldon, remember?_

Missy wrapped an arm around her to offer comfort, which only made Amy feel worse. She smiled in thanks and tried to clear her face for what she knew was coming next. She looked over at Sheldon, who got up and went up to the pulpit without issue. He seemed calm, and his face was pale, but not mottled like he'd been crying. Somehow, this made Amy more worried. He pulled a thin envelope from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and, opening it, unfolded the paper inside. His eyes scanned the first few lines. Something he read seemed to give him pause—or maybe it was merely the sight of Meemaw's delicate scrawl just beneath his fingertips. Whatever it was, he became a statue. Without conscious thought, Amy edged forward in her seat, getting ready to go to him if he needed her.

His head shot up as he wildly looked out into the crowd. His searching eyes quickly found her. Amy was waiting on him. Their gazes met. Hours might have gone by or just minutes. She was neither aware nor cared. Only they existed. Amy tried to pour every bit of love, comfort, and confidence she had into him. It was all readily accepted. She could see him relaxing his stance. Finally, when he had all he needed, Sheldon gave her a small, thankful smile before turning back to the audience.

After clearing his throat, he said, "Hello. I'm Dr. Sheldon Cooper. Virginia Darcy was my meemaw. She asked me to read a letter to you all that she wrote. So, here goes."

Then, with one last, fortifying breath, he looked down at the sheet of paper in his hands and began to read aloud.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

"You know, people think you're this weird robot man who's so annoying all the time—and you totally are. But then it's like that movi_e __Wall-E_ at the end. You're so full of love and you can save a plant and get fat people out of their floaty chairs._"__  
__**Penny (TBBT Season 3)**__  
__"The Adhesive Duck Deficiency"_

"When you get to be my age, death crosses your mind fairly often. It makes you take stock of things in a way you never have before. You start wondering if you've done all you wanted to in life, if you loved enough, if you took enough chances or let fear hold you back, if you were happy enough, and if the good times outweighed the bad.

"I've buried my grandparents, my parents, my brother, my husband and my child. Grief and I are old friends. I've also loved a hardheaded man who loved me back with all he had and shared a passion with him storybooks could only dream of. I've carried four babies in my belly and watched as each one took their first breaths in this world. I've had tragedy bring me to my knees and triumph show me how to fly. I've grown old and tired in the mirror, but watched with pride as my energy and spirit carried on in my grandchildren.

"The point, my darlings, is while I didn't do all that I wanted to in my life, what I did accomplish is what I'm most proud of. I loved all I could, and I was fortunate enough to see all of that love returned to me tenfold. I was fearless more than fearful, took my fair share of chances, and was happy more often than not. In short, the good times in my life more than made up for the bad.

"If you're reading this, the time of my death has arrived and I'm at last reunited in the Kingdom of Heaven with all those I've lost. I can once more drink sweet tea sitting at a table with my mama, go fishing with my brother, kiss my husband and hug my baby. Just the thought of these things brings me great joy. But, at the same time, this joy is diminished with the knowledge that I'm leaving behind so many loved ones. I wish I could take the pain away, but I know better than that. So, instead, I bestow my last decree as Meemaw: Grieve. Miss me. Cry, if you need to. But, don't let the grief rule you. Take a deep breath, get up, and get on with your life. There are things in this world each one of you need to accomplish. More importantly, there are people in your life to love, fear to be overcome, chances to be taken, and happiness to be sought. And, one day, when you're as old as me and you look back on your life, you'll be able to say, 'The good outweighs the bad.' It's what I want most for all of you.

"I guess I'll close now. Lord knows, I've rambled enough. I love y'all. So much. Never forget that. You've made my life extraordinary. I hope I was able to do the same to you. But, don't think this is goodbye. It's not. This is 'until we see each other again'. After all, when it comes your time to gain entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven, you can sit down, have a glass of sweet tea, and tell me how it all went. Until then, I'll be waiting.

"Love, Meemaw."

The last two words hung in the air for a long time. _Love,_ _Meemaw._ While Sheldon had read the letter, the sanctuary came alive with that love, as if Meemaw was standing in front of them for one last, stolen moment. It was almost magical. But, as the resonance of the last two words began to fade away, the ethereal enchantment went with it.

Then, it started. The previously spellbound stillness was soon permeated by cleared throats, sniffles, outright weeping, moans, whimpers, and the shrill cry of a fussy baby in the back. Only Sheldon remained immobile under the torrent of emotion swirling about the room. He was a pillar, his attention only on the paper in his hands. He hadn't cried. His voice never once broke while he spoke. There were no tears from him now. Amy was astounded. It had taken all she had to hold her anguish inside. Thankfully, she had her hands full comforting Missy, whose head had fallen on Amy's shoulder as the girl's body shook with grief. Amy wrapped her arms around her and held on. On the other side of her, Mary was giving herself over to gut-wrenching sobs and hugging her equally-distraught sister while clutching the hand of her brother. Everyone was in tears and weak in the midst of their grief. But, like a superhero walking through a wall of flames, Sheldon endured it all.

The heartbreak was evident in his expression. Anyone with eyes could see it. Yet, this suffering was tempered with something else, something that looked a lot like fierce determination and a pure love in his eyes that reminded her of Meemaw. Lifting the sheet to his lips, he gave it a tender, reverent kiss. Then, he refolded the paper and slipped it back into the envelope before returning it to his jacket pocket. With a swift nod to his audience, he resumed his place with the other pall bearers.

Amy watched all of this in awe. She'd always known he was remarkable, but this was more than she'd ever expected. Looking around her, she noticed she wasn't the only one who seemed to think so. There was an intrinsic respect in the audience's expressions as they watched him, admiring the resilience and poise it had taken not only to walk up there, but to share his grandmother's final words with them all in a plain, no-nonsense manner—just like Meemaw would have. And, by doing so, he had resurrected her for them all. It seemed like a miracle.

No one else would have been able to accomplish it.

_Which is why Meemaw picked him_, Amy thought. _She's the most brilliant of us all._

— —

The pall bearers brought Meemaw's casket from the back of the black hearse. Then, with a slightly uneven gait, the six men bore the long, mahogany coffin over to the graveside. Amy had eyes only for Sheldon at the very end, bearing his share of the weight with a look of solemn rectitude. His supreme intensity in completing his task continued to amaze her. It seemed like the letter from Meemaw was all he needed to keep him fortified.

Everyone else was either seated under a large, green tent emblazoned with Morrison's Funeral Home or hovering just around the edge of it. White fans painted with golden crosses swished back and forth as people tried to battle the heat of the sun bearing down overhead. The pallbearers carefully placed the coffin and lined up along the side. The pastor stepped to the podium to begin the service. The last-minute stragglers gathered close around the edges of the tent.

Amy, however, couldn't join them.

The drive from the church to the graveside had been too much. Every bit of willpower she had deserted her. From the time she'd watched them slide the coffin from the hearse, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Something about the action seemed so final, so tragic, so intolerable. Amy hadn't been able to stop weeping since. She was so ashamed of her behavior. Here she was, supposed to be a rock of support for her grieving boyfriend and she couldn't get it together long enough to get out of her car.

_Thankfully, Sheldon is strong enough_, she thought. _Little good I can be to him like this._

She blew her nose, hiccupped, and looked back up. Mary, Stumpy and Ruth were up near the casket now, holding an old, black bible between them. They were reading the 23rd Psalm. Missy had told her that the Darcy family tradition called for all children of a deceased person to gather and read this psalm over the graveside of their parent.

"On day," Missy had added with a little fissure of pride, "George, Sheldon and me will do it for Mama."

Amy cried harder. She was falling apart, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. All of the sadness and grief she had been holding in for the last few days gushed out of her like Diet Coke after tossing in a few Mentos candies. She could only hope Sheldon didn't notice her absence, and that she could get it together before he saw her again.

Time passed, but the tears wouldn't stop coming. Pretty soon, the strength to even hold up her head abandoned her. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel, not caring that the salt water of her tears was staining her glasses.

_Meemaw_. The two days she had spent with that wonderful creature had been the best she'd ever had. The ready acceptance, the twinkle of humor always in her eyes, and the feel of her hugs could cure the world of all its ills. Amy had never had a grandmother like that, didn't know grandmothers could be like that. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into the woman's arms. _Just one more time._ Simultaneously, she was mad at herself. _This isn't your grandmother, Fowler._

"But it felt like she was. I wanted her to be," she whimpered, dissolving into tears again.

"Amy? Amy? Amy?" Three knocks on her window had her head shooting up in alarm.

Sheldon stared down through the glass at her. He yanked on the handle of the door, but it was locked. "Let me in, Amy."

_He can't see me like this. I'm a mess. The tears, the mucus, the germs. Too much for him._ "No," she said, turning away to search for more tissue. Amy found a small pack in her purse, ripped it open and started furiously mopping at her face. She kept her back to him. "Go away, Sheldon. I'll be fine."

The knocks came again, more insistent this time. "Unlock the door."

"You don't want to be around me right now. If everything is over, catch a ride back with the others. I'll be fine. I only need to calm down, and then I'll come get you at your mother's house."

"Let me in or I'll find another way. I'm a genius, Amy. Locks are no deterrent for me."

"No," she declared, feeling the rush of sadness come over her again. _Oh God, not now._ But, like a flood, the tears would not be stopped.

There was no reply. She hoped he went away. Amy fell forward against the steering wheel again, her shoulders bouncing as she sobbed for all she was worth.

The click of a lock opening got her attention. She looked up in time to see Sheldon jerk open the driver's door. He didn't speak as he pulled her out of the car and into his arms. She wanted to protest, but she couldn't. She was too weak, too tired, too overcome and his embrace was too warm, too comforting, too easy to fall into.

She soaked his jacket, but he didn't seem to mind. He kept her against him, rocking her back and forth like a child, and whispering "It'll be OK" over and over again until she almost believed him. At last, when either she was severely dehydrated or simply done crying, the tears ceased. Her body trembled under the weight of endless hiccups, but Sheldon never let her go. For the first time that she could remember, he waited for her to pull away.

When she finally did, the mortification of it all made it impossible for her to look up at him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"For what?"

She frowned at the ground. "This is your grandmother. You shouldn't have to comfort me."

"It is to her credit and yours that you loved her so much after only knowing her so short a time."

"But you were doing so well today. You had it all together and here I am ruining it for you."

He put a hand under her chin and made her look up at him. "You ruined nothing. Without you, I would not have been able to start the letter. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome. But I still feel awful. I should have been at the graveside with you. I should have—"

His hand moved to cradle her jaw. "It was my understanding that our relationship is supposed to be composed of equalities. Is that not so?"

"No—I mean—yes, it is so."

"Then, may I not comfort you as you've comforted me? Is it not my duty as your boyfriend?"

She felt all the more ashamed for some reason. "Yes."

"Good," he decreed with a heavy nod. "I am fast becoming aware of how I am late to the game in holding up my end of this relationship, Amy Farrah Fowler. But, as they say, better late than never."

She looked up at him in surprise, unsure what exactly he meant by that.

"Aww! Look at you. Come here, sweetie," Mary said, walking up from behind her son to pull Amy into her arms.

Stunned, Amy could do nothing but stare at Sheldon over his mother's shoulder. He smirked and gave her a you're-truly-stuck-now-and-I-can't-do-a-thing-to-h elp-you shrug. When Mary finished, Ruth took over. Then, Missy and Stumpy and so on until Amy felt like she'd been hugged by almost every person there—including Hank, who apparently bathed in Aqua Velva; Granddaddy Cooper, who called her 'girly' in her ear; and Greg, who she didn't mind hugging so much. It was one of the strangest, most cloying, and best moments of her life. She'd known Sheldon's family liked and accepted her, of course. But this … she didn't even know what this was. Whatever it was, she liked it. She also was starting to understand a little of her boyfriend's mysophobic tendencies. All this hugging could be a bit much.

When they finally released her, Mary declared that everyone should follow on to her house where they would dine on fried chicken and pecan pie and much more.

"I got enough food to feed the whole county. Y'all come help me get rid of some of it," she said.

No one dared deny her. As everyone began to trail off to their cars, Mary turned back to Amy, plucking the glasses off her face without a word. She held her hand out to Sheldon, who gave her his last clean handkerchief without a word. Cloth in hand, she quickly cleaned Amy's glasses and handed them back. "Thank you, my girl."

"For what?" Amy asked, putting her glasses back on.

"For teaching my Shelly how to love and for helping him become the kind of man I always knew he could be."

"Mom," Sheldon groaned, "please refrain from beating Amy over the head with your over-idealized notions of relationships. This is not one of those Nicholas Sparks books you and Missy drool over all the time."

"We'll see." Mary grinned and passed Amy the handkerchief. "In the meantime, you and me need to talk religion before this thing between you two gets really serious. What are your views on Jesus Christ, Amy? You know He's your lord and savior, right?"

"I don't object to the concept of a deity, but I do object to the ridiculous rules, rampant hypocrisy, and ritualistic behavior that governs organized religion as a whole," Amy answered, wiping her face free of any residual tears.

Over Mary's shoulder, Amy could see Sheldon wince. "Here we go," she thought she heard him mumble.

His mother didn't even blink. "Well," she said, "you believe in God. That's half the battle won already." She patted her cheek. "Shelly, you bring this one home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, you hear?"

"Mother, you know I do not celebrate Christmas, and the last time I came home for Thanksgiving was six years ago. It is too long a trip to take for a mere day or two and you already force me to attend the reunion every summer as it is. As far as my bringing Amy with me, she, no doubt, has family obligations of her own to—" He broke off when Mary swung around to look at him. "How about just Thanksgiving?" he squeaked.

Mary stared at him a long time before giving a swift nod. "Thanksgiving it is."

Then, with a wry smile at Amy that told her Thanksgiving was all the woman had wanted in the first place, Sheldon's mother headed off to her car. "See y'all back at the house!"

"Hey, Shelly? Can I have my Slim Jim back?" Hank asked.

"Of course," Sheldon answered, reaching on top of the rental car to hand the thin, ruler-shaped metal tool to him. "Thank you."

_Well_, Amy thought, _that certainly explains how Sheldon got into the car_.

"Are you ready to go?" Sheldon asked, shucking his jacket and tossing it into the back of the car. "It is hotter than Hades out here, and I'm wearing black."

"Of course."

They bid goodbye to Hank and got into the car. With a last, collective look at Meemaw's final resting place, they lined up with the others vehicles to exit the cemetery.

Sheldon broke the silence between them. "Will you come to Thanksgiving?"

Amy's eyebrow went up as she smiled at him. "Do I have a choice? You and your mother seemed to have decided for me."

He scoffed. "You'll always have a choice. In fact, if you refuse to come, I don't have to come. That would be most acceptable." The idea seemed to cheer him considerably.

"And deprive your mother? Never." She smirked. "You're aware she manipulated you, right?"

He frowned. "I know she didn't want both holidays. She's not that greedy. But she was pushing for Christmas. I chose the lesser of two evils. If you're going to be around her more often, you should acquaint yourself with her patterns of behavior so you know how to avoid the pitfalls. She can be quite tricky."

"Noted."

A few moments passed as they sat at a stop, waiting for the light to change.

"When will I meet your mother?" he asked.

She turned to look at him in surprise. "What do you mean? You've met my mother."

"That was one Skyping session for the purpose of assuring her of the veracity of our non-existent-at-the-time relationship."

"Why would you want to meet her at all?"

He sighed in frustration. "I would imagine that to be obvious. As this is an equal relationship, I assume I will be expected to meet your mother in person at some later date. You have asked me to attend familial events with you in the past."

"Which you either declined or wormed your way out of in order to stay home and play video games. You've made your disdain of meeting my relatives known, Sheldon."

He waved off her concerns. "That was before. Things are different now."

"You mean because we're intimate? Sheldon, if you're worried about marriage and kids—"

He frowned. "I'm not worried about that. I know you aren't pressuring me. But you told me there would be sacrifices I would be expected to make in this relationship, correct?"

"Y-yes." She couldn't help how her voice trembled. _Where is he going with this?_

"I'm simply trying to plan ahead. If I know about something in advance, I'm better able to handle it. And, as I'm the man you love and the man with whom you are intimate, social custom dictates that I must meet with your parents. As your father is dead, I must meet your mother."

Amy pulled into Mary's yard and cut the engine. Her mind was a riot. _This week has been the craziest of my life. Now, on top of everything else, Sheldon wants to meet my mother?_ But, even as she considered the idea of that, she knew it was impossible. There was no way she could ever let those two people be in the same room together. Her mother, whose main goal in life was to see Amy married, with Sheldon, the man who never wanted to marry? It would be a disaster of epic proportions. Amy's head spun at the ramifications. She and Sheldon had come so far this week. She didn't want to spoil it. _Why can't things stay the way they are?_

It took a moment for that last thought to really sink in._ Sheldon wants to move forward, and I want things to stay as they are?_ The irony of that was too much.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: If you didn't notice yet, I now have cover art for my little fanfic story. Check it out and let me know what you think. I would like to send a major thank-you shout out to rubyanjel for designing this for me. I think you will all agree that she did a FABULOUS job. I cried when I first saw it, which sucks because I thought I was past the tears at this point. LOL. Thanks again, rubyanjel! The name doesn't lie. You are indeed divine.**

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

"Do you need some Aloe Vera? 'Cause you just got burned!"_  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 5)**__  
__"The Countdown Reflection"_

"Why are you hiding over here?"

Amy glanced up from the double-chocolate pecan pie she was devouring. George plopped down in Sheldon's preferred dining room chair, which happened to be right next to the one she currently occupied. The subtle scent of musky cologne wafted over as he made himself comfortable. She swallowed the bite she'd taken before turning to look at him.

"I'm not hiding," she answered. "I'm sitting at the table in plain sight of everyone else around. As you can see, there is a living room full of people watching television a mere ten feet away from me. The question should be: Why aren't you in the back room with your mother and all the other grandchildren?"

"I got Pop-Pop's gold pocket watch when he died. The only decent thing of Meemaw's worth any value is her engagement ring and I'm fairly sure Ginny's going to get that—although Missy might give her a run for her money."

Amy peered at him carefully. From the way George was sitting, it looked like he didn't have a care in the world. He reclined back in the chair, resting one bent elbow along the back edge—and taking up more space than one person ever had the right to. One leg was cocked at a perfect right angle, the side of his shoed foot balanced sedately on the opposite kneecap. He'd taken off his suit jacket, removed his tie, and rolled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt, showing off tanned arms covered with little, black hairs.

But, as usual, the veneer of arrogant self-confidence ended the second one looked into his brown eyes. They seemed tired and older than he should be.

"Tell me, George," Amy said, "is this the part where I'm supposed to be so disgusted by your show of callous greed that I reprimand you?"

He grinned, showing off startlingly white teeth and the Cooper jaw, both of which he had in abundance. With an indifferent shrug, he said, "Sure. Why not? Give it your best shot, pumpkin. Punish me."

She set her fork on her dessert plate and pushed it all away. Using a napkin to wipe away any remaining crumbs, Amy then folded her hands in her lap and gave a shrug of her own. "Why do you think I care what you do? It's no skin off my nose."

He locked a gaze on her. "I've been watching you since you got here, _pumpkin_. You're a fixer. You can't help it. You fixed Missy, and you sure as certain fixed little Shelly—something even Meemaw couldn't do. Why don't you give it a shot with me?"

Underneath all the bravado and bullshit, Amy could see the flicker of fear in his eyes. "Is that what you're really hoping I'll do? I told you before. I can't cure your addiction to alcohol, George. Only you can do that. By seeking treatment in rehab."

He mockingly shook his head. "Well, you're no fun at all, pumpkin. Every woman I know loves a project."

"Maybe the women you know is part of the problem."

George leaned in with a leer and gave her a slow wink. "You have no idea. But you could fix that. Come on. I can be more exciting than Shelly ever could."

His mind tricks were thinly-veiled and easily avoidable. "You are truly scared, aren't you, George?" She stared back at him.

There was a crack in his cocky exterior and his sneer returned. "Don't pretend you know me."

"I don't know you," she countered. "In fact, in the last few days, I can honestly say that I've only met the real George Cooper once, which is a shame because I'm sure he's actually a decent fellow. And, since Sheldon is going to return soon and will, no doubt, pummel you within an inch of your life for saying any of what you've said to me, I'm going to save you another black eye. Tell me what you want."

"Who says I want anything? Maybe I'm simply here to give you a hard time."

She nodded. "I see. Well, I'm returning home tomorrow. This is your last chance."

"Not true. I heard tell Shelly's bringing you to Thanksgiving. Mom's over the moon. Looks like she might get those grandchildren she's been hankering for after all. Of course, my little brother would have to have sex with you first. How's that going for you, pumpkin? I bet celibacy's a bitch."

Amy would have loved to wipe the smirk from his face by telling him the truth. Unfortunately, that would cause more problems than it would solve.

Instead, she said, "That is a lot of anger you're carrying around. You might want to talk to someone about it." She leaned in and gave a loud sniff. "You also might want to lay off the spearmint gum. I've mentioned before; it doesn't conceal the smell of bourbon as much as you think it does." She got to her feet. "If you'll excuse me—"

He grabbed her arm as she tried to leave. "Please," he hissed. From the sound of it, the word was choking him. He eyed his relatives over by the television, as if afraid they'd heard him beg. A lot of people had left over the few hours they'd been here, but the likes of Granddaddy Cooper and Hank were still around along with a few of Uncle Stumpy's ex-wives.

Still, there was something about him she couldn't turn her back on. She returned to her seat, shaking off his hold on her arm. "If you say one more rude comment to me, I'm going to leave and refuse to speak to you again. Tell me what you want, George. You've wasted enough of my patience with your foolish games."

He nodded, sitting up straight with both of his hands dangling uselessly between his knees. "I don't know how you did it, but Sheldon—he's different. He touches you. He flinches or pulls away when anyone tries to touch him. He's been that way as far back as I can remember. But, with you, it's different. Today at the graveyard and last night at the viewing, he touched you. He kisses you, and he's bringing you back at Thanksgiving. He loves you—like a man loves a woman—and I didn't think I'd ever see that."

"What does that have to do with you?"

His eyes burned into Amy, reminding her a little of Sheldon. "I meant what I said before. You helped Sheldon. I don't know how, but you did. And, whatever you've said to Missy, you helped her, too. That Greg guy. He's gorgeous and all, but he's more churchy than Mom is. I figured the second Missy found out, she'd dump him like yesterday's garbage. But, last night, after he dropped her off home, I came outside and found them …"

"Yes?" Amy prompted, thinking George's choice of words in describing Greg was odd—accurate, but odd. "What were they doing?"

"Talking about Jesus together. She's actually thinking about getting re-baptized. Can you believe that shit? I thought they'd be making out or something. Then, at the end of it all, he shook her hand good night. No kiss. He shook her hand!"

Amy took all this in, unaffected. "I don't believe in Jesus. Thus, I can hardly be responsible for your sister's sudden spiritual reconnection with her deity of choice."

"All I know is she was gonna dump Greg. She told me. Then, she talks to you at the viewing and—poof—she's changed her tune. I ain't as smart as you and Sheldon, but Mama didn't raise me to be a fool either. I can put two and two together. Every member of my family sings your praises. You even maneuvered around Granddaddy Cooper and _nobody_ gets around him." He gave a huff of disdain. "Believe me; I know that from personal experience. But you did. And he still thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. You're like a miracle worker or something."

"There are logical explanations for all of those things."

"Yeah, you fixed it all," he said. "Then, I hear Sheldon crow about how you're the leading expert on addiction."

"Sheldon said that?" Amy couldn't help but be pleased by this.

"Can we focus on me for a second here?"

She colored and bit back her smile. "Of course. Sorry. Go on."

"I ain't interested in rehab. It ain't gonna work for someone like me. But, I do wanna stop drinking. You were right the other night when you said it was a crutch. It is. But I can't do it on my own. You could help me just like you helped everyone else. Then, maybe I won't be a screwed up freak anymore and can finally get my life on track." He shuddered, an expression of self-loathing flashing across his face. "I can't keep doing what I been doing."

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. He looked down, grimaced, and pressed something that made it fall silent before slamming it onto the table.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" she asked.

He leered at her. "Pumpkin, I _am_ trouble. Been that way since I was born."

There was something about the way he leered that struck her as strange. It wasn't that it was just a façade. There was something else to it—a layer of desperation about him that didn't add up with a story of simple addiction. Then, there was his "freak" comment from before. There were many words he could have called himself, but that one didn't make sense. Amy couldn't put her finger on what was underlying this problem of his, but it nagged at her nonetheless.

The phone buzzed again. She saw a name flash on the screen—"Randy"—before he hit the "ignore" button again and cut him off again.

"Why aren't you talking to Randy? I thought he was your friend."

George looked away from her, a slight color plumping under his dull cheeks. "He's something, but I ain't in the mood to deal with him right now. He's part of the problem."

"Because you drink more when you're around him?"

His eyes shot back around at her. "Randy doesn't drink. Is that what Mom told you? She's never liked him. Never will either." There was something in his tone—an almost beaten sound—that finally tipped her off to what was going on here._ Of course! How could I not have seen this before? It explains everything—especially that comment he made last night about not measuring up to what a "real man" is._ She considered the ramifications of what would happen if everyone else knew—especially his mother. _Oh God, his Southern, strict, overly-Christian mother._

George's eyes never left her as she processed everything. She could tell by the defeated way he settled back in his chair that he knew she knew. They stared at each other a long time, neither saying anything. A baseball game droned in the background, every once and a while people would cheer as one team or the other scored, but these two souls just continued to look at each other.

"How long?" she finally asked in almost-whisper.

George broke away to bury his head in his hands. "All my life, I think," he murmured. "I tried to stop it, but it won't be stopped."

"And that's why you drink?"

He nodded. "For the most part. If I'm drunk, I don't have to think about how much I'm a disappointment to my dad, how my mom wouldn't even speak to me if she knew. Even Sheldon … he would …"

"Sheldon wouldn't have a problem with this. He would accept you just as Missy has."

George looked up at her in surprise. "How did you figure out Missy knows?"

Amy shrugged. "Things she's said about you and to you. She's very protective of you, you know."

"You really think Sheldon would accept me?" His voice sounded like an insecure child.

"Yes, I do. He's not as judgmental as most people. He's more pragmatic. Things have to make logical sense to him and, once I explain it all, this will. And, as you're his brother, he loves you."

He let out a soft groan. "But, Mom … She … This will kill her."

"Your mother is a lot stronger than you give her credit for. At her core, she is a mother and she does love you. She might not like this, and she may struggle for a while. But, in the end, this is who you are. She has to accept you. You can't go on the way you have. You can't keep drinking to hide from the truth. You have to accept it. How can you expect anyone else to accept who you are if you can't?"

His eyes watered as he looked at her. "Is that what you told Missy?"

She nodded. "It's also what I've always told myself. It's the truth."

"You're right. I know you're right. But, how does someone come out to their family—especially a family like this one? I'm Granddaddy Cooper's favorite. How long do you think that'll last if he knows I'm … me? He'll call me an abomination or a sissy boy and never speak to me again."

"Maybe or maybe not. But at least you wouldn't be living a lie anymore. I think it will take time for everyone to get used to the idea. If they love you, they will accept you. If not, you're better off without them. Whatever happens, you have Sheldon and me and Missy."

He nodded. "I have to think about this. I don't know what I'm going to do. I just know I can't keep drinking anymore. Randy doesn't like who I become when I'm drunk, and neither do I.

"Then stop. No one can decide that for you. You have to want to stop."

His phone buzzed again. He looked down, his face breaking out into an unexpected smile. "I better call him back soon. He's been worried about me ever since he found out about Meemaw. If I keep ignoring him, he'll do something stupid like try to come over."

Amy reached into her purse, scrawled her number on a piece of paper, and handed it to him. "Call me anytime. We'll talk. But, when you decide to accept yourself and stop drinking, you have to go into rehab. That's not an option."

"Yes, ma'am," George said, looking down at the paper and then back up at her like he couldn't believe his luck. "You know what? You _are_ the best thing since sliced bread. If I wasn't the way I am, I might give my brother a run for his money."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Sheldon is everything I want. There'd be no competition. But I appreciate the compliment just the same."

Missy slid into the seat on the opposite side of Amy. "What are you two over here whispering about? Please tell me the gossip's juicy. I need some good Jerry Springer drama at this point. Everyone has been too loving, too consoling, too happy. Why can't we be one of those families where there's a brawl at the funeral home?"

"You don't mean that," Greg said, taking the seat beside her. "I've seen it happen before. It's not as funny as you might think."

Missy considered this before nodding. "You're probably right. Besides, Meemaw wouldn't have liked that too much."

"You guys wanna play cards? I think I saw a deck when we were in the kitchen," Greg offered.

Amy and Missy agreed just as George's phone started buzzing again. "I can't, Greg. Another time maybe. I gotta take this," he said. "See you all later. Amy, make sure you tell me goodbye before you leave, you here?"

"I will," she promised.

He headed outside to make his call as Greg headed into the kitchen to fetch the cards. Amy turned to Missy. "So, how are you doing?"

Missy, however, was far more perceptible than any of her siblings. Her gaze darted from George's retreating back to Amy, not missing a thing. "He told you?"

She nodded.

Missy sat back in the chair in shock. "Wow. What's he gonna do now?"

"Hopefully? Stop drinking and accept himself."

"You gonna tell Shelly?"

Amy considered this. It wasn't like she could keep something like this from him. "Yes, but not tonight. I think I'll tell him on the plane tomorrow. He'll need time to process and ask questions."

Missy agreed and her fingers fell on a simple, gold cross around her neck. She fiddled with it, her mind obviously on the ramifications of all that had occurred. Greg returned, took one look at their somber expressions, and asked if everything was all right. Missy smiled at him, patted his cheek, and assured him everything was fine.

It took no time at all to select Rummy as the game to be played. Then, Sheldon showed up. He seemed to be in a far better mood than he had been when they'd left the car. She had managed to put him off on the subject of meeting her mother, but he hadn't looked happy about it.

Hey, you," Amy said. "We're going to play Rummy. Would you like to join us?"

Sheldon agreed and took George's vacated seat. The first hand was dealt before Amy gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in the back of her mind for a while.

"So, what did everyone get? Missy, did you get Meemaw's engagement ring?"

Missy frowned. "No, Ginny got that. I swear, if I have to hear her tout one more time about how she's Meemaw's namesake, I'm going to slap her upside the head."

Greg sent her a mollifying look, which seemed to work as Missy immediately brightened and said, "It's fine. Let her have it. I got something infinitely better."

"What's that?" Amy asked.

"This." Missy held up the cross she'd been fingering. "Meemaw's first cross from when she was a little girl. She wore it every single Sunday when she went to church from the time she was baptized."

Amy admired the necklace before turning to her boyfriend. "And what did you get?"

He beamed. "I got the best thing of all. Meemaw's letter. I'm going to frame it and put it on the wall in my room. That way, it'll be like she's always with me."

Amy smiled and, reaching under the table, squeezed his hand before returning her attention to her cards. They played three rounds. Sheldon was easily dominating the game.

"You're counting cards again, Shelly," Missy accused, scooping up the cards as she prepared to shuffle and deal another round. "This is just like when we were kids. And you wonder why nobody ever wanted to play with you."

"I can't help it," Sheldon argued. "And, if you hadn't put down the ace of spades when you did, I wouldn't have been able to go out. So, really, this is your fault."

Missy rolled her eyes and distributed the cards.

Greg tried to change the subject. "So, Amy, you and Sheldon fly home tomorrow afternoon? I bet you'll be glad to sleep in your own bed again."

Amy kept her attention firmly on the cards she was sorting. Greg was like the sun. If she didn't look directly at him, there was no damage. "I will. I've also missed work. I'm sure the week has brought a lot of interesting developments with the experiments we're conducting. I've been keeping up with status reports through email, but it doesn't take the place of actually being in my lab."

"She hasn't cut open a brain in over a week. She's going through dissection withdrawal," Sheldon joked.

Amy laughed at his clever wit. "Indeed I am. My hand is tingling in want of a scalpel." They chuckled together before turning back to Greg and Missy, who were looking at them both as if they were nuts. "What?"

"I don't think I want to know," Missy said, putting the big stack of cards in front of them and turning one over to signal another round is about to begin.

"Wait," Sheldon called. "Before we start again, I'm going to make some tea. Would anyone else like some?"

"I'll have some," Amy said. "Earl Grey, please."

Missy and Greg declined. Sheldon got up, preparing to head to the kitchen when Missy said, "Oh, I've been meaning to ask you, Amy. How's your sunburn? You peeling yet?"

Before Amy could say anything, Sheldon said, "Fortunately, Amy didn't peel at all. Her skin browned all over—especially in her chest area."

And, with that, he left for the kitchen, no doubt blissfully unaware of the bombshell he'd just dropped. There was a pregnant silence as Missy and Greg digested the implications of his statement. Amy could do nothing but watch it all unfold in shock. Her mind swirled with all kinds of denials, but from Missy's expression, she knew it was too late for any of that.

Sheldon's sister's eyes fairly glowed as a mischievous grin spread over her face. "Really?" she asked.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

"You shush! I'm happy. I want to talk about it!"_  
__**Leonard Hofstadter (TBBT Season 2)**__  
__"The Maternal Capacitance"_

Amy had a great expanse of intelligence, skills, and expertise at her disposal for dealing with the various twists and turns life often throws one's way. Unfortunately, this did not include being able to lie on the spot. "Um …"

"Yes?" Missy prompted with a laugh, inclining across the table as if she were straining to hear whatever Amy could manage to devise.

Without a doubt, there were plenty of excuses to plausibly explain how Sheldon would know the current state of his girlfriend's chest without having carnal knowledge of her body, but Amy couldn't think of a single one. _This is like Armand the miniature horse breeder all over again._ When her anxiety reached panicked level, she decided to throw herself on the mercy of Missy. "You can't tell your mother."

"Unbelievable," Missy snickered softly as she relaxed back into her chair. "Innocent, little Shelly did the nasty. Never thought that would happen. You must be quite the temptress, Amy Fowler."

"Please don't tell you mother," Amy pleaded. Mary would have a heart attack. Sheldon would have a stroke. _I'll die of mortification._ _The world will end, and …_

"Don't worry. She won't tell Mrs. Cooper," Greg assured, looking directly at Amy. For the first time since she'd met him, this action calmed her down.

"I won't?" Missy asked, cocking a defiant eyebrow at him. "What makes you so sure?"

Instead of responding, he leveled her with a deeply passionate gaze that would have caused even the stoutest of women to feel faint. She smirked at this obvious ploy. Slowly, he closed the space between them until their mouths were mere inches apart. His eyes were pools of warm chocolate that even Amy had a hard time not falling into. Reaching out, Greg swept a tendril of hair that had fallen onto Missy's cheek back behind her ear.

She crumpled like wet tissue.

"You won't tell your mother," he purred. "You're a far better woman than that. Isn't that right?"

"I won't tell her," she promised.

"Good," he said with a smile.

Missy smiled back and sighed.

"Say she can't tease Sheldon about this either," Amy added, thinking since Greg was using his power to help her, she might as well get everything she wanted.

"You won't tease Sheldon about this. It's beneath you," Greg instructed.

"I won't?" Missy asked, blinking in confusion.

"No, you won't, darlin'," he assured her soothingly.

"I won't," she recited with another sigh.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned back to the table and picked up his cards.

It took a second for the spell to break around Missy. When it did, she frowned and shook her head in a manner that reminded Amy of Sheldon when he'd been fighting his attraction for her. Amy grinned, thinking Missy had indeed met her match in the illustrious Greg Morrison.

Missy shot a glare at him, clearly not liking this recent turn of events. "You better be a great kisser, buddy," she threatened.

"Oh, I am," he retorted, with an audacious wink.

Missy shivered, and Amy was right there with her. If there was a superhero of hotness, Greg was it. _Not a bad ally to have. Thank goodness he uses his powers for good instead of evil._

In the midst of all of this, Sheldon returned with two mugs of steaming tea. He set one in front of Amy and retook his seat, seemingly unaware of the turmoil his comment had caused. Picking up his cards, he looked around.

"You didn't start without me, did you?"

Amy reached over to pat his hand. "No. We waited for you. Greg, you go first," she said, thinking it was probably a good idea to fill her boyfriend in on his little faux pas when they returned to the motel. It also gave her pause on whether or not she should share George's secret with him. _What if he accidentally gave something away to his mother? Hmm … lots to think about on that one._

"Amy? It's your turn," Sheldon reminded her.

And, with that, she put the matter out of her mind for now, played a card, and settled into enjoying the rest of her evening.

— —

"_Pumpkin_?"

Amy rolled her eyes as she entered her room at the motel, Sheldon following behind her. "It's nothing," she said, kicking off her shoes and putting down her purse.

He slipped the suit jacket he'd been carrying onto the back of a nearby chair. "My brother kissing your cheek and calling you 'pumpkin' when he tells you goodbye is nothing? I don't think so. It's not appropriate behavior."

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes."

She was shocked that he would admit it like that. A warm flood of feeling pooled in her chest. "I know it seems sudden, but George and I had a long talk—with others around us—and have become friends. He's not so bad once you get to know him. But, I promise you, he has no romantic intentions towards me." Amy still hadn't worked out how she was going to tell Sheldon the truth about his brother. In the end, she'd decided to pull a Scarlet O'Hara and think about it tomorrow.

Sheldon, however, was far from assured. "When it comes to men and women, endearments equate to romantic intentions. This is the proper social convention. Everyone knows this."

"_You_ don't use endearments. Does this mean you have no romantic intentions towards me?" she asked, pivoting around to slip out of her hose.

"That's different."

Once the hose were off and put away, she turned back around to find him with his arms crossed over his chest. _He looks so adorable when he was irrationally jealous_. "How is it different?"

Amy watched with fascination as his brain nearly killed itself trying to come up with an applicable answer, but he couldn't. Finally, he blurted, "You call me _cuddles_."

"And you hated it; so I stopped. This does not, however, change the fact that you have never used an endearment when speaking to me. Yet, you and I are in a romantic relationship. Therefore, your principle that romantic intentions equate to the use of endearments has been disproven and you must yield the victory for this argument to me."

Being outwitted seemed to throw Sheldon for a loop. He took off his tie, folding it and adding it to the chair housing his jacket; popped open the top two buttons of his collar, and sat down on the side of the bed—all the while seeming to ponder everything she'd said. The longer he sat there, the more frustrated he appeared to be. Amy expected that he was trying to find a way around her logic, but she smugly knew there was none. _The great Sheldon Cooper might have to concede he was wrong about something_, she thought wryly.

"You would like for me to use an endearment when I speak to you?"

The smile fell off her face. _Oh, no. He thinks I'm pushing him again._ "You don't have to do anything. I understand how you are, Sheldon. I would never expect—"

He scowled. "I'm not talking about expectations, and I don't _want_ you to _understand_ how I am. I'm asking what you would prefer, Amy. From time to time, would you like it if I were to use an endearment when I spoke to you?"

"Yes."

She answered his question in the same matter-of-fact manner he'd used before. He nodded and got to his feet. "Fine. We will call each other 'turtle'. Is this acceptable?"

"What?" She'd been supposing he would use _darling_, _sweetheart_, or maybe _honey_—but _turtle_? Knowing Sheldon, even _koala_ would have made sense, but _turtle_? "I don't understand. How is referring to each other by the name of a shelled reptile acceptable as a term of endearment?"

"As early as the 15th century, 'turtle' was used not only as a term of endearment but was also considered synonymous with calling someone 'lover'. The term was not meant to reference the shelled reptile, but rather the turtledove, a bird with a reputation for conjugal affection and loyalty."

He pulled her into his arms and stared down at her in much the same manner that Greg had employed against Missy only hours before. "Besides, using this as a term of endearment will mean we can say it in public without the whole world knowing our intimate business. They will simply think we have an affinity for reptiles. It's quite clever—even if I do say so myself."

"But the whole point of an endearment is so that everyone knows—"

"You _are_ mine," he gruffly declared. There was a pause before he added, "Turtle."

_Well_, she thought with a sigh, _when he puts it _that_ way_ …

He snuggled against her, his nose grazing down her neck. Sheldon inhaled deeply and sighed. "You smell like vanilla and cinnamon. Why do you always smell like vanilla and cinnamon?"

"It's my body lotion. I like the scent."

"Me too," he grunted, kissing the hollow of her neck.

Almost as a reflex, she moved her head to give him better access. He took full advantage, trailing his lips across her collar bone.

"Sheldon," she breathed as her eyes drifted closed, "we have things to talk about."

"Enough talking, Amy," he murmured in between kissing back up her neck. "You won't deny me now—not when I want you so terribly." As if he were hedging his bets, he sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth, nibbling along the edge.

"No, I can't deny you," she agreed. _As if I could ever deny him—especially when he does that._

His hands moved up from her waist, zipping open the back of her dress. The next thing she knew, the fabric was easily pulling away from her shoulder and his mouth had taken its place. She arched against him, clutching at his shoulders for balance. He kissed down her chest, pushing away cloth as he went. The material dragged her arms down to until she freed herself from it. The dress then fell about her waist, resting limply on the tilt of her hips.

She wrapped her arms around Sheldon's neck, drawing him up so she could kiss him on the mouth. He kissed her back, massaging her lips with his. Her fingers slid up the nape of his neck, running little furrows into the back of his head and getting lost in his short, brown hair. They continued to kiss even as his hands grazed over her waist and up her stomach to cup her breasts through her bra. She broke off, nipping along his jaw and neck.

It was him who arched to give her access now. Amy tasted his skin on her tongue even as her hands moved to the collar of his dress shirt. She worked the rest of the buttons free as her mouth continued to press fevered kisses everywhere she could reach. Once she was done, she jerked the shirt from the waistband of his pants and shoved it down his arms.

It only went so far before his arms seemed trapped. She kissed his mouth, waiting on him to free himself. He pulled away as the struggle continued. She looked down.

"What happened?"

He stepped back. "The buttons around my wrists," he answered, flicking them open. He took off the shirt, folding it neatly and adding it to his pile on the chair. He turned back to her, holding out a hand.

"What?" she asked, still a little disoriented by their earlier actions.

"Your dress. Take it off and give it to me. You won't be needing it anymore tonight."

There was something about the finality of his statement that had a delicious thrill zinging through her groin. It fairly throbbed with anticipation. She thrust the dress down her hips, stepped out of it, and handed it to him. He draped it over his jacket. Her clothes lying on top of his was unexpectedly arousing.

She stood there in nothing more than her underwear. A few days ago, she would have been embarrassed or even a little self-conscious. But, now, she just reached out for him. A few days ago, he might have flinched away or at least looked fearful. But, now, his eyes soaked up the sight before him like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He closed the distance between them, taking her in his arms as he reclaimed her mouth. They traded kisses and caresses that grew more frantic and full of yearning. Their tongues met and mingled. Their hands touched and explored. He urged her towards the bed. She went willingly and was soon lying with the cool sheets warming against her back. He'd shucked his undershirt, pants, shoes, socks, and belt and, after efficiently adding them to the pile on the chair, he joined her on the other side—_his side_.

Sheldon took off her glasses and set them on the bedside table next to his wallet before turning back to her. He stroked her cheek, smoothing her hair back from her face. His blue eyes bore into hers with an intensity that left her breathless. "I—I—I …" His clenched his eyes shut for a second and took a deep gulp of air before opening them back to look at her again. "I-I-I need you, Amy," he hoarsely whispered. He seemed almost mad at himself for admitting this—as if it was a weakness he couldn't let anyone else know about.

She cupped his face. "You have me," she consoled, kissing him. "You'll always have me. I love you."

He grunted, still seeming unsatisfied with himself. But, before she could wonder what that was about, he pulled her roughly to his side of the bed and rolled her under him. Talking was left by the wayside. There were only heated kisses and long touches between them. Amy couldn't put her finger on it—mostly because it was hard to keep a thought in one's head at a time like this—but there was something different about Sheldon. They'd shared coitus before, of course. But there was a greater concentration and veneration to his movements, caresses, and kisses this time—almost as if he were set on worshipping every pore of her skin. Not to be outdone, Amy matched him kiss for kiss and stroke for stroke.

She flipped him over onto his back. Sheldon groaned as she lapped at his nipples, sucking them into her mouth one by one and worrying them against her tongue. Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear to grasp him firmly. She found him hot and semi-erect beneath her fingers.

"Amy," he moaned as she gently squeezed him.

She made him lift his hips as she forced his underwear down around his knees. She returned to his penis and pumped it in her hands. "Sheldon, I want to try something. Close your eyes." _If he knows what I want to do_, she thought, _he'll never let me._

He looked down at her in confusion. But, when she delivered another deft stroke, he was willing to do whatever she asked. The second he complied, Amy pressed a kiss against his length. Sheldon all but shot off the bed. His eyes flew open.

"Amy, you can't! The germs," he begged.

But, even as he said all this, she could tell he didn't really mean it. He wasn't trying to push her away. He wasn't moving at all. He was too busy watching to see what she would do next. From the look on his face, the fear of germs was being overcome by a profound desire for her to continue.

"I think I'll risk it. I need to taste you," she said. Then, without another word, she took him into her mouth.

A fierce growl of surrender issued forth from his chest. This gave Amy permission to continue even though she wasn't sure what to do at this point. Honestly, she hadn't thought past the whole put-him-in-her-mouth step. So, she kept her attention on her boyfriend's taunt face as she worked her lips on him, trying to deduce from his reactions what he liked and what he didn't. It was a clumsy mess at first. There was saliva everywhere, and she couldn't fit all of him inside her mouth without choking. There was also the problem of trying to do this while remembering to breathe every once and a while. But Sheldon didn't seem to mind. If anything, from the rocking of his hips and the little mews erupting every few seconds from the back of his throat, she would say he was enjoying this very much.

Up until a point, that is. Just as she had learned to breathe out of her nose, that it was better to have a firm grasp at the base of his penis, and to treat the whole maneuver like she was enjoying a popsicle, he dragged her away.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, afraid she'd somehow hurt him.

His voice was strained. "No, you were doing everything right. I was going to—I didn't want to—not in your mouth. That would be—"

She smiled. "Maybe another time." _I'm definitely researching this more when we get back home._

He shivered at the mere suggestion and pressed her onto her back. Freeing himself of his underwear, he tossed them from the bed. Then, Sheldon took over, kissing the tops of her breasts as he urged her knees apart. She welcomed him between her thighs, relishing his hardness jutting against her. He squeezed and petted her breasts through her bra before reaching around behind her. There was a bit of fumbling and what sounded like a muffled curse.

"What is it?" Amy asked.

"I can't get your bra off," he muttered, jerking uselessly on the band of silk.

Amy realized this was probably the first time he'd ever had to do this. Even during their other coital sessions, he'd never actually had to take the garment off himself. She laughed.

He pulled back with a glare. "You think me trying to remove your bra is funny?" he asked in pure male outrage.

"No, I think it's funny that you're trying to remove the bra from the back when the clasp is clearly in the front. I thought you were a genius."

He grunted and, with a nimble flick of his fingers, had her bra open and off. Then, taking in the sight of her naked breasts, he said, "I am a genius … a genius who is going to make you orgasm so hard you won't be able to remember your name."

Amy almost orgasmed then and there. _Take-charge Sheldon really gets my motor running. I wonder if that has to do with …_

All thoughts ceased as Sheldon went after her breasts like a man on a mission. He licked, sucked, nibbled, laved, petted, and worshipped them until she was whimpering in need. He didn't stop there. He kissed his way up and down her body until his tongue had seemingly touched nearly every inch of skin above her waist. After stripping off her panties, his fingers were busy as well, plundering the depths of her vagina.

Two fingers were presently thrusting in and out of her as the thumb of his other hand unrelentingly rubbed the nubbin of her clitoris. Her legs were splayed wide as she arched into the heady pleasure building within her. There was a strangely annoying beeping sound somewhere in the background, but she couldn't concentrate long enough to register what it was.

"Who's a genius?" Sheldon asked, slipping a third finger into her.

"You are," she panted, willing to say anything if he would just continue what he was doing.

"To whom do you belong?"

"You," she moaned. She was so close … _so close_. "Only you."

"Damn straight," he agreed and pushed down on her clitoris.

Amy flew. She soared. She left the atmosphere of the earth before exploding into a million pieces of bliss. Her body quaked and shuddered under the weight of her orgasm. Before she had the chance to remember her name or where she even was, Sheldon had rolled on a condom and sheathed himself inside of her.

As he began to thrust, she rode out the remaining highs of her climax, wrapping her legs around his hips. When her orgasm had faded, she relaxed into him, willing to be a spectator as he claimed his own ecstasy. Sheldon, however, wasn't having this. He took her breasts back into his mouth, clearly intent on rekindling her arousal.

It took him less time than she would have thought to succeed. His ministrations took on their surprisingly worshipful tone again: Focused and unyielding and careful and slow and sweet. Between his attentions to her breasts, his caressing hands on her body, and his unhurried and methodical drives, she became a fevered participant once more. She tilted her hips, taking him deeper inside—something that had them both moaning.

They rode the tide of sensual rapture together, each crest spiraling higher and higher. Her hands gripped at his shoulders as his thrusts became harder, faster, and wilder. She urged him onward, begging him to never stop. Sweat dripped off his chest onto hers, but neither seemed to notice. They were too caught up. Then, he stiffened above her and with, one last thrust, stilled as he reached his pleasurable end.

"Amy!" he yelled. His eyes opened to stare down at her the way they always did when he was so blissful and happy. She looked up at him, enthralled by his expression, but still frustrated by her own lack of fulfillment.

Somehow, he picked up on this and started thrusting again. He flinched as if it was uncomfortable, but kept at it. Amy didn't have time to think about this as her crest started to spiraled up and out of control. She moaned his name and closed her eyes against the onslaught of frenzy and pleasure pooling inside of her. _So close._ He reached between them and rubbed her clitoris. She arched against him, unable to control her body anymore. Then, it was all just too much. She stiffened beneath him before dissolving into a fit of jerks and shudders.

"Sheldon, I love you," she crowed as an orgasm rushed over her. "Oh, I love you."

Within a few moments, he collapsed on top of her. Amy wrapped her arms about his neck and held on. She'd never been more exhausted or content in her life. The light kiss on her ear and his chest heaving against hers told her he felt the same way.

Finally, with another kiss on the side of her sweaty forehead, he rolled to lie next to her. They panted in cadence for a while, staring up at the white ceiling.

"We are only getting better at this," she said at last.

"You're welcome," Sheldon arrogantly replied.

She looked over at him with an admonishing grin. "Hey, I helped."

He pulled Amy to him, cuddling her in his arms. "That you did. You also nearly killed me."

She laughed, remembering his reaction to his first experience with oral sex. "You liked it."

"Yeah." He wheezed with a laugh of his own, "I did." There was a pause before he softly added, "Turtle."

She smiled and snuggled into him. "I love you, turtle," she murmured, giving his chest a quick kiss. _Turtle._ Was it weird that she was starting to like the sound of that? At a time like this, it seemed like the most romantic word in the world.

A beep sounded from over near her purse.

"Your phone has been going off incessantly. It was very distracting," Sheldon complained. "The next time we engage in intercourse, there will be a rule about silencing all electronic devices."

"Sounds good. Put it in the coital section of relationship agreement," she said.

He detangled himself from her and got out of bed, obviously intent on going to bathroom. "You should see who it is," he said. "After we've had our showers and put on our pajamas, we need to go over tomorrow's itinerary."

She grabbed her glasses off the bedside table and quickly put them on so she could watch the firm muscles of his cute tushy clench and unclench as he stopped to pick up all their underwear. He folded everything and set them on the chair before continuing on to the bathroom. He stopped right before opening the door, as if he'd felt her eyes on his flesh.

"What?" he asked.

She smiled. "Nothing. Just enjoying the view."

He blushed in a way she found utter delightful before rolling his eyes and heading into the bathroom. The sink came on next, telling her he was probably taking care of the condom and washing his hands before he got into the shower.

Amy grinned, ridiculously happy. There was a slight soreness between her thighs as she got out of bed, but she didn't mind. Naked, she walked over to her purse and pulled her phone out, wondering if it was Penny. She had promised to call her bestie when they returned back to the motel after the funeral. She'd meant to—before being distracted by Sheldon, that is. Smiling at the memory of that for moment, she returned her attention to the phone.

Sure enough, there were three missed calls from her blonde best friend, two voicemails, and one text message. Amy headed back over to the bed, opening the text message first. She'd just sat down on the side when it became available for view.

"Oh shit!" she yelled.

"Amy! Such language," Sheldon admonished, popping his head around the door of the bathroom. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Amy couldn't answer. She could only stare down phone in her hand, her eyes locked on Penny's words etched across the screen.

"OMG! U & Sheldon actually had sex?!"

**A/N: I had a hard time figuring out how to spell the name of Amy's made up boyfriend, the miniature horse breeder. Everyone seems to have their own version, so I went with the one I thought made the most sense. I don't think there is an official spelling out there—at least not one I could find.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

"The meme has reached full penetration."_  
__**Amy Farrah Fowler (TBBT Season 4)**__  
__"The Herb Garden Germination"_

Sheldon had the forethought to put on a robe before he rushed to Amy's side. "What happened?" he demanded.

Instead of answering, she handed him the phone.

It took approximately two seconds for him to read the message and far less than that to go into full meltdown. "Oh, dear Lord! Penny _knows_? Why did you tell her? You weren't supposed to tell her. Amy, how could you tell her?" He began to frantically pace back in forth in front of her repeating "Oh, dear" again and again.

"I didn't tell anyone."

This announcement stopped him mid-stride. "Well _I_ certainly didn't. I've spoken to no one back home but Leonard—well except for a strongly-worded email to Raj admonishing him for the sympathy e-card he sent with cat humor in it. He knows how I detest that. My point is that in no way did I convey that you and I had engaged in coitus. This is your doing. Now you're trying to lie to me on top of it all? Just admit it. _You _told Penny. I don't care if she's your best friend. How could you break your promise to me?"

Amy sighed at how devastated he seemed in his misguided belief that she was to blame here. "I would never break a promise to you, Sheldon."

"Then how do you explain how Penny knows?"

"You told."

He crossed his arms over his chest like a sulky child. "Really? Did I somehow telephone her in my sleep? You're being ridiculous. I have an eidetic memory, and I'm telling you I said nothing about our intimate affairs to anyone." His chest puffed up, signaling his anger and outrage—something she decided to deflate.

"Fine. You have an eidetic memory. Let's put it to good use, shall we? When Missy asked me earlier about my sunburn, what did you say?"

It took little time for his memory banks to come back with an answer. "I said, 'Fortunately, Amy didn't peel at all. Her skin browned all over—especially in her chest area.' Then, I went into the kitchen—Shit!"

Amy didn't rebuke him for his blatant hypocrisy in using that word. After all, crude language was warranted in such situations as these. She also didn't comment on the fact that when he freaked out his Texan drawl became more pronounced. She was just glad they were finally on the same page. "Yes, _you_ told Missy. Greg worked on her and got her to promise not to tell your mother or tease you, but apparently, we forgot an important detail."

"What detail?"

"We forgot to make her promise not to tell anyone else. She and Penny call each other all the time—or so she mentioned to me a while ago. So by process of deduction, this means you told Missy, who told Penny."

He wilted into a sitting position next to her. "Who, no doubt, told the rest of our friends. Shit!"

"Oh, yeah," Amy drawled.

He kept shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. Then, something seemed to occur to him that somewhat brightened his expression. "You know, if you think about it, this is really your fault. Missy is tricky. You should have known—" He broke off when she glared at him. "Fine. We'll share the blame."

As she was naked and getting cold, Amy decided clothes were in order. She got up to put on her robe, only to realize Sheldon was unintentionally wearing it. As she wasn't going to point that out to him right now for fear he would fly into a tizzy again, she pulled on her nightgown instead and said, "Assigning culpability is a useless endeavor. We have a combined IQ of well over 300. We should use that to come up with a way of neutralizing this problem instead."

"You're right. Together, we're an unstoppable force. We could rule the planet if we wanted—and if I was of a mind of fix my death ray." He reached over and pulled her back down to sit beside him. "What do you suggest?"

Before she could answer, Amy's phone binged again, signaling the arrival of another text message. They looked down at it together.

"U can run, but U can't hide, little Amy. I know ur coming home tomorrow."

Another text came on top of that one.

"Girl's nite. My place. Fri. 8 pm. B there or we'll come 4U."

Amy and Sheldon stared at each other with equal expressions of horror. As there was only one thing to say at a time like this, they said it in unison.

"Shit."

— —

A Yoo-Hoo, a pack of Oreos, and a firm hand-hold went a long way to calming Sheldon down during take-off. Once the flight had reached a nice cruising altitude, Amy let him go and tried to relax back into her seat. As her mind was a riot of activity, this was a difficult undertaking. There were too many thoughts and too many worries. _When will this rollercoaster end?_

"What is it?" Sheldon asked, putting the cap back on his drink.

"It's nothing," she assured him.

"It's hardly 'nothing'. I may not being able to read most people's countenances in order to accurately discern their temperament, but you are different. I am learning to memorize your expressions, Amy, and the one currently etched across your face equates to nervousness."

She gaped at him. _He's memorizing my facial expressions now? _The ways he went about "trying" in their relationship at times made her heart soar_._ Without warning, she jerked him into a fierce hug. "I love you, Sheldon."

He didn't hug her back. He didn't seem able to do anything but rigidly allow himself to be held. "Amy, you're confusing me. Was I wrong about the nervousness? Are you feeling amorous instead? This is hardly an appropriate place." When she didn't free him, Sheldon hissed, "_Might I remind you that we're in public, woman_? If you desire physical affection, I promise to hug you all you want once we land and are privately ensconced in your car." There was another pause._ "_Perhaps if you ate something you would feel better. Maybe you have confused your feelings with hunger. As this is obviously an emergency situation, I give you leave to take one of my Oreos."

Amy couldn't respond to his ridiculous ramblings, there was too much emotion. She was too overwhelmed with the bliss and exhilaration of being with such a wonderful man.

"Amy," he wheezed after a prolonged time, "you're crushing me."

She finally released him and bounced back into her chair with a happy grin. "You were correct in your early supposition. I was indeed nervous. I still am, in fact."

"I hope the hug was sufficiently able to rectify this." He seemed inordinately pleased with himself for being able to determine her mood. "Is your apprehension due to your lack of faith in the plan we devised to deal with our friends? If so, there is no need to worry. It's brilliant."

"No, I am quite satisfied that our plan will function as we've intended. My anxiety stems from whether or not I should tell you a secret that I know."

Sheldon looked wary. "I do not like gossip. You know this."

"It isn't gossip. This is a secret."

"I do not like the idea of secrets existing between us," he said. "However, I also do not like to see you so troubled. Is it vital that I know the nature of this secret?"

"I believe it is."

Sheldon puckered his brow. "Is it about Missy's and Greg's romance? Unlike my sister, I have no interest in knowing the ins and outs of my twin's coital exploits."

Amy giggled. "Pun intended?"

He thought about it for a minute before letting out his trademark breathy laugh. "Unintended, actually." He grimaced. "Though, I could have done without that mental picture."

"The secret has nothing to do with them. Although, I wouldn't worry about her engaging in intercourse with Greg anytime soon. He wasn't too happy when I informed him of what she did. He said something about teaching her a 'lesson in humility and earning forgiveness'. I wasn't sure what he meant, but I am confident she is going to be justly shown the error of her ways."

"You mean there's someone out there who has control over my sister?" A smile slowly crept over his face reminiscent of a cartoon villain. "I think I might like Greg, after all. He knows how to be the dominant in the relationship, and Missy could certainly use the guidance on how to conduct herself better."

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed as she beheld her boyfriend. She didn't like this cocky, male attitude suddenly rising to the surface. It was beneath him. "That's what your mother often says to me about you."

He frowned at her, but didn't argue. Amy patted his hand in consolation, satisfied her point had been made. "I believe Greg and Missy—like you and I—will learn to navigate through life as well as their relationship as equals. It's just going to take them a while."

Sheldon nodded. "Yes. After all, they don't have our higher intelligence to help speed the progression."

Amy bit her lip, refusing to remind him that it had taken them over three years to get to this juncture. This was not the time to bring that up.

"Now, Amy, back to this secret. Does it concern another man?"

"It does, but not in terms of anything romantic with me. In fact, it's not about me at all. It is about your family. My concern in telling you is that, while you have every right to know, having this knowledge will put you in a position of possibly having to outright lie or otherwise withhold information from your mother and other key members of your family. I know how you hate that."

Sheldon took this all in quite calmly. "I see. This is about George Jr., isn't it? Whatever he told you last night which somehow made you his friend—Is that what this is? Does it also have something to do with why you two seemed to be thick as thieves this morning during breakfast at Mom's?"

Amy marveled at his quick, deductive reasoning skills. "Yes, it is about George."

He fell silent. Amy watched his eyes as his mind fairly buzzed with activity. No doubt he was weighing, measuring and considering all the many details he already knew as well as any facets to those details that he might not already be aware of. The scowl on his face told her that he was anxious about keeping things from his mother. There was also an awareness of his general incompetence and apprehension when it came to secret-keeping. At long last, his mental calculations were completed and eyes zeroed in on her. "Tell me."

"Are you sure?"

He swiftly inclined his head in agreement. "I bid my mother goodbye this morning. I will not speak to her again until our regularly-scheduled chat next week, and I will not see her in person again until we travel back to Texas for Thanksgiving. Therefore, I will have more than enough time to process whatever it is you must tell me. As long as my mother does not ask me a question point-blank, I believe I can keep this information to myself." Something else seemed to occur to him. "Will George Jr. tell Mom his secret before Thanksgiving, do you think?"

"From the way he was talking this morning, I would assume he means to tell her by the end of the summer. But I can't say for sure. It's a fairly large secret, and he may chicken out."

Sheldon bit his lower lip. "If he does not tell her, will you help me to watch my words when we go back to Texas? I don't want a repeat of last evening's slip up," he asked.

"Of course I'll help you."

He took a deep breath and straightened in his seat as if preparing himself to undergo electric shock therapy. She held his hand again.

"Tell me," he softly ordered.

Amy did. With quick precision, she detailed everything she'd learned from George over the last twenty-four hours. How he'd always known he was gay, but didn't know how to tell anyone. How he'd never felt like he'd fit in or been what their father would consider as truly masculine. How his quickie marriage had been nothing more than a last-ditch effort to ignore who he was. How he'd slowly begun to rely on the bottle more and more when the pain inside became too much. How he was deathly afraid of telling their mother and a few other assorted relatives for fear that they would reject him. And, lastly, how he'd met Randy and how much they loved each other and wanted to be together … openly.

When she was done, Amy sat back and waited for him to manage, absorb and otherwise organize this new information. His face had been a rebellion of emotions and expressions as she spoke, but he'd never tried to interrupt. Sheldon merely sat there and listened.

"This doesn't surprise me as much it should have," he said. "I think a part of me has always known." His eyes shot to her. "Does that make sense?"

Amy nodded. She kept a hold on his hand, waiting for him to say whatever he needed to say to get this straight in his mind. When unshed tears flickered in his eyes like precious gems, however, she grew concerned. "Sheldon, what is it?"

"George Jr. He's just like me. He's Peter Pan, too."

She frowned, not understanding what he was talking about. Then, she remembered back when they'd first arrived at his mother's house. The photo she'd seen with him, his brother, and his father out hunting together. She recalled Sheldon listing all the items his father had decreed a male must do in order to be proclaimed as grown.

"Neither one of you is Peter Pan. You're both grown-ups."

He shook his head resolutely. "Not according to my father. I was never what he considered as a 'real man.' No matter how hard he tried, I could never measure up. I failed him."

Amy grabbed his other hand in hers until she was holding both tightly in her grasp. "Listen to me, Sheldon Lee Cooper. You and your brother are as real as men can get. Your father merely came from another time, a different generation. He was passing along the values that his father passed down to him. This doesn't make them right. It makes them antiquated. But love crosses all boundaries. He was your parent and you are his children. I have no doubt that, if George Sr. were still with us, he would proclaim how proud he was of the men his sons have become." She exhaled. "And, if he couldn't do that, it would be because of a weakness on his part, not on yours or George Jr.'s."

Sheldon stared at her for the longest time, not speaking. His eyes bore into her, as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was, he couldn't find it. But instead of disappointing him, it seemed to make him happier. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"Yes," she said, "of course."

He gave a short bark of laughter. "I don't deserve you, turtle. It won't change anything. I'm still going to keep you." Sheldon leaned in close to her. "But I wanted you to know that I am aware of how much I don't deserve you."

It was the closest he'd ever come to telling her he loved her and it hit Amy like an express train. She breathed in deeply and looked down, trying not to cry. Finally, when she had herself under control, she returned back to him and said, "I feel the same."

It was his turn to look away this time. He cleared his throat loudly and peered around as if afraid they were being overheard. His voice fell to a whisper as he leaned in again and said, "Is George all right with me knowing this?"

"Yes. He knows I'm going to tell you. He thought it might be easier coming from me."

Sheldon nodded. "Understandable. Do you think it would be acceptable for me to call him this weekend to talk about it? I still need time to … sort all of this out. But I would like to call him to …" He broke off, like he didn't know how to express himself.

"Offer your support?" she prompted.

"Yes."

"I think he would like that."

"You will help me work out what I should say to him? I don't want to offend him, and I'm afraid I might say the wrong thing. We've never been close."

She squeezed his hand. "Come over to my apartment on Saturday evening. We'll have dinner and talk about it then."

"I do my laundry at 8:15 on Saturday nights. We would have to eat very early in order for me to return home in time. I would invite you to my apartment, but I have no wish to be overheard. This is George's business, and I don't want Leonard and the others—"

"It's fine. Would you find it objectionable to do your laundry at my place? I have my own machines, which are very well maintained. We could multi-task. You could do your laundry, and we could work out what you can say to George."

Sheldon pondered this for a long time. Amy knew it was a lot for her to ask. He was such a creature of routine and habit that this would be a big change for him. Seeing as he had made so many changes and adjustments already, she wasn't sure he had another one in him right now.

"That would be acceptable."

Amy glanced up in surprise. "Really?"

He nodded again. "Yes, you were generous enough to help me when you might have had other plans for your Saturday. The least I can do is give you equal measure by making a few compromises to my own schedule. I will come over at 6 pm. We can have dinner and, after I get the laundry sorted and the first load on, we can talk about George. Are you amenable to that?"

"Yes." She grinned, wanting to kiss him, but knowing better as they were in public.

They straightened back in their seats. The flight attendant came by to offer refreshments, which Amy took and Sheldon declined. Amy pulled up her laptop and answered a few emails. Sheldon stayed quiet and contemplative for a while. She let him be.

They were about an hour out of LAX when he turned to her and said, "Am I right in assuming that Missy knows about this already?"

She knew he was talking about George again. "Yes, she does. She supports him."

"Mom won't like it." He said that with the fearful certainty of a small child.

Amy closed her laptop and put it away so she could concentrate on this conversation. "No, I can't imagine she would. Mary, however, is his mother. If she truly loves George, she will have to accept him. Besides, I think, like you, she probably already knows. She'd just been lying to herself about it."

"Maybe," Sheldon agreed gingerly. "But what if she doesn't accept him and wants me to turn my back on him as well?"

"What do you think?"

He gulped at what she was implying. "Amy, I've never overtly disobeyed my mother."

"You're not Peter Pan. You're a real man. Real men stand up to their mothers if the need arises. Besides, you've been standing up to her for years. If it was up to her, you'd be attending church every time the door was open, remember?"

He considered this a moment before nodding.

"You have more of a backbone with your mom than you give yourself credit for, Sheldon."

He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "As long as you stand with me, I believe I could do anything," he said.

She laughed. "Good. Then, how about winning the Nobel Prize already? I long to brag to everyone I know about my award-winning boyfriend. I've got it all planned out. I'm going to start with your cousin, Ginny. She needs to be brought down a peg or two."

He didn't share the joke. Instead of even cracking a smile, he regarded her for a lengthy interval. It was the cataloging sort of stare that she never knew how to adequately interpret. Finally, she ceased smiling, blushed under the intense scrutiny, and looked down.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She shyly glanced back up, surprised to find him still staring.

"Because." There was a wealth of emotion in those blue eyes of his, but none he seemed able to express. He lifted their joined hands and pressed a quick kiss against her wrist.

"Because why?" she dared to ask.

His throat worked as if he were trying to swallow something large. "Just because," he hoarsely whispered. Then, he turned to look out the window.

**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. You guys have no idea how enriching they are.**


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

"Grab a napkin, Homie. You just got served."_  
__**Howard Wolowitz (TBBT Season 1)**__  
__"The Big Bran Hypothesis"_

"Ready?" Sheldon asked, pulling his suitcase from the trunk of her car. He looked down at his watch. "It's nearly eight. They should all be upstairs as we requested."

"Yes, I'm ready."

That wasn't exactly accurate. Truth be told, she was a bundle of stress and the last thing she was ready to do was go upstairs and face their friends—brilliant plan or not. Yet, as Amy knew there were things in life one could not avoid, she didn't see a point in making her feelings known. She'd survived her thesis dissertation, her initial gynecological exam, and her first sexual encounter with Sheldon and come out of each experience a happier and more educated person. She felt confident this incident would end no differently.

It also didn't hurt that her nerves were tempered with a delightful zing of anticipation. There was something about their friends knowing what they had done that made her feel like she'd finally passed some kind of initiation ritual into a special club. She was in a stable, loving relationship with an exceptional man with whom she enjoyed the most sensual of coital exploits. Amy knew she was fortunate in this, and she wanted to scream the news from the rooftops.

Sheldon shut the trunk and the pair walked to the main door of his building. Once inside, they began the arduous journey of climbing four flights of stairs.

"They're going to try to hug you," Amy reminded him. "It's expected. Your grandmother died. They'll want to offer their condolences and show their support. You have to let them."

He flinched. "Why? Because of their absurd feelings of sympathy I must throw caution and hygiene to the wind? That is quite illogical—not to mention reckless."

"We've been over this. You wouldn't let them come to the funeral. This is what you get."

"It would have been worse to have them all there. Having to deal with them as well as my family?" He paled at the mere thought. "Leonard expressed his understanding when I denied his request." They turned to make it up the last flight when he said, "Upon further reflection, I believe I can avoid the requisite physical affection by—"

She stopped mid-stride. "We agreed, Sheldon."

He sighed. "Fine. I shall bear it as best I can. Nonetheless, I want my objection noted."

"It is." She resumed the climb, hurrying to match his long-legged stride. There were times she prized the tall, lanky frame of her boyfriend, but this wasn't one of them.

"Also, if I get sick, you are obligated to nurse me back to health. This includes delivering soup to my bedside, rubbing my chest with Vaporub, and singing to me." He slowed his stride ever so slightly so she could catch up. "Do you agree to my terms?"

"Yes, although the Boo-Boos and Ouchies clause of the relationship agreement makes my agreement redundant." They made it up the last step. "Don't forget to thank them for the flowers they sent."

Sheldon eyed her. "I emailed everyone from the plane. That will have to suffice."

"Fine."

They paused in front of the door of apartment 4A at 2311 Los Robles. A simple, blue door had never seemed so intimidating before. They each took a deep breath and pressed forward. Sheldon's hand curled around the knob and, before another minute passed, they were standing side-by-side in his living room.

Everything was right where it was expected to be. Leonard was feeding Penny a pepperoni slice as they shared the wide chair at the far end of the couch. Raj was sitting in Leonard's computer chair complaining about having eaten too much to Bernadette and Howard, who were seated on the couch and perched on the end arm respectively. In the center of it all was a glass coffee table holding a large pizza box with Graziano's emblazoned on the side, plates littered with scraps of crust, a few uncapped beers, a stray wine glass, and three half-drank bottles of water.

If one were to freeze that moment in time, it could have been any Thursday of any month during the past two or so years. The only missing elements were her and Sheldon. But their friends obviously hadn't forgotten about them. Like some kind of sacred shrine, Sheldon's spot was empty as was the one beside it.

_My spot_, Amy thought with a rush of possessiveness that reminded her too much of her stubborn boyfriend. _Looks like he's not the only one changing here._

Amy was overwhelmed by what a welcome sight it all was. She hadn't expected to have missed these people so much, but she did. A lot had happened in the last week. It felt like twenty years had passed and, at the same time, like she and Sheldon had never been gone. She could tell by the expression on his face that her boyfriend felt the same way. She could also see that he was intensely happy to finally be home.

The second they were noticed, Bernadette and Penny got to their feet and rushed over.

Bernadette hugged Amy while Penny threw herself at Sheldon. He stood there and endured it with the flexibility of a stone pillar. "I'm sorry about your Meemaw, sweetie," Penny said, dropping a quick peck on his cheek before pressing her face into his green-striped shirt. He flinched under this new torture.

When Penny and Bernadette switched positions, the frown he sent Amy expressed his discomfort and irritation. She wasn't able to offer any consolation. She was not one to especially enjoy hugs either—even though she in no way had Sheldon's aversion to them. However, as she'd never been missed this much before, Amy could do little but wallow in this new, giddy feeling for a while.

They thought the hugs were over with the girls, but Raj had to have his as well. Amy accepted this with a laugh. Sheldon, however, held up a hand when their friend made a beeline for him. "I'll give you a hundred dollars if you won't hug me."

Raj narrowed his eyes. "Give me my Stan Lee-signed Hulk hands back, and you have a deal."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen." Sheldon snorted, pulling Raj into a quick hug. After two slaps on the back, he pushed him away.

"It's so good to see you guys. I didn't think you were ever going to get here. We finally have our Shamy back," Penny sing-songed.

Before Sheldon could launch into one of his tirades against the combining of their names, Leonard interrupted him. "Come sit down, everyone," he called from his chair. "We still have some food if you guys are hungry."

"No thank you. We stopped to eat on the way home," Sheldon replied, taking Amy by the hand and pulling her over to the couch.

They'd taken their appropriate places before they noticed that their friends' eyes were collectively glued to their joined hands, which were now resting on Sheldon's knee.

"What?" he asked.

"You're holding hands." Howard declared.

"Without Amy having to force you," Bernadette added.

"Or being drunk," Penny said.

"Or having to be given forty-eight hours written notice," Leonard said.

"Or being in a movie theater," Raj whispered almost in awe.

Sheldon rolled his eyes. "Grow up, all of you. Amy is my girlfriend. It is socially acceptable for us to hold hands."

A Grinch-like grin spread over Howard's face, leaving Amy uneasy. _Remember the plan._ _He only has a master's degree._

"You know, it's also socially acceptable to have sex with one's girlfriend and, from what I hear, you've been doing that as well." He laughed and crowed, "Shelly finally gave up his v-card! Never thought I'd see the day."

Raj interjected before Sheldon could respond. "That reminds me. Howard, you owe me fifty bucks on that bet we made. I told you Amy would talk him around. True love always wins out in the end."

Bernadette sent her husband a look of pure disgust. "You bet on our friends' sex life?"

He gave a tense laugh and shrugged. "It sounded like a sure thing. This is Sheldon the asexual robot we're talking about."

She glared at him, leaning over so they were face-to-face. "You remember the thing you asked me about trying when we get home? Yeah, well, you can forget about that."

That Grinch grin fell right off his face. Amy tried not to laugh.

"All right. All right," Penny said, having retaken her position next to Leonard. "Enough of all that. Let's get to the good stuff." She turned to stare at the couple. "So, did you two really do what Missy said you did? Has my little Shelly become a man at last?"

"You can't ask Sheldon something like that and—" Leonard began, only to be stopped by a look from Penny. He swiftly turned to Amy and Sheldon and said, "Yeah, what Penny said."

It was Amy's turn to speak. "You are our friends. At a time like this, we understand that there is a natural curiosity you would have about the various aspects of our relationship."

"However," Sheldon continued, "we are also entitled to a degree of privacy when it comes to decisions we make together. We are both over the age of thirty and have known each other for three years. Honestly, it's none of your business what we have or haven't done unless we choose to share it with you. We also refuse to be fodder for your entertainment purposes."

Amy nodded. "Therefore, as a compromise, we have devised a system that will give each of you the most pertinent information that you want while gifting us with the privacy we desire. For tonight only, we will allow each of you to ask one question of us—only one. After tonight, Sheldon and I will refuse to speak about this subject ever again."

"Are you serious?" Penny asked.

"Do you want that to be your question?" Sheldon replied.

She frowned and bit her lip. "No."

"Excellent choice," Sheldon said. "As Amy said, you each have one question. You should be conscientious in wording them wisely. We will not be so forgiving of such a slip up again. Although, if your question is crude or in any way vulgar, we reserve the right to refuse to answer." They looked right at Howard so he would know they were talking about him.

"Do we get to try again if you choose not to answer?" Leonard asked.

Amy shook her head. "That is the tricky part. Make sure that you consider your question carefully before you—"

"Come on," Howard whined. "Just tell us. Yes or no. Did you do the dirty?"

Sheldon arched a defiant eyebrow. "Howard, if you interrupt again, you lose your right to a question. You will also gain a strike. Might I remind you that you already have two strikes? A third would subject you to banishment from the apartment or to retaking the class."

That shut Howard up.

Sheldon continued. "Now, who would like to go first?"

Raj's hand shot in the air as he bounced up and down in his seat. "Oh, me! Pick me! Please pick me."

Amy laughed at his childlike enthusiasm. "OK, Rajesh. Ask your question."

Raj gave a heartfelt sigh. "Was it romantic?"

Sheldon made a loud _uhhh_ sound like a buzzer on a game show. "Your question is too ambiguous, Raj. You have not adequately explained what you mean by 'it'. Therefore, as we cannot understand the question, we cannot deliver an answer. Next!"

Raj deflated like a soap bubble on the end of a cylindrical tube. Howard immediately set out berating his friend. "How could you ask that of all things? Who cares if it was romantic?"

"I do." Raj shrugged. "It's what I most wanted to know."

Bernadette, however, did not let this stop her from demanding to go next. "My turn." She twisted so she was completely facing them. "Did you two have sex?"

"Yes," Sheldon responded matter-of-factly.

Five people issued a collective gasp, which Amy found odd as they obviously knew this already. Still, she supposed having the news confirmed could be a shock.

Like a cocaine-addicted beaver, Bernadette blurted, "What were the circumstances? When? What made you finally—"

Sheldon made the buzzing sound again. "Sorry. Each person is only allowed one question. Next!"

"Do you really think we are just going to blithely go along with agreeing to only one question each?" Howard asked.

Sheldon grinned like a cat who had just trapped a mouse. "Yes, and that was your question, Howard."

The diminutive former-astronaut sputtered with indignation. "That's cheating."

Amy shrugged. "It is not cheating. You were all warned to carefully construct your questions. Perhaps your lack of listening skills is why you do not currently possess a doctorate. You should work on that." She turned away before he could launch into his usual naive justification on how his lack of education wasn't just that … lacking. "Who's next?"

"I am."

This came from Leonard, who was cautiously peering at the two of them behind his black glasses. He settled back in his chair, fiddling with the collar of his grey hoodie. It was evident that he had deduced the deliberate minefield that was this little game. It would not be so easy to trip him up.

It had been Sheldon's assertion from the beginning that maintaining control of this conversation was paramount to getting through it. The one-question-each idea had been hers. Clearly, it was all working. Here they were with three questions down and the only information they had given away was that they had indeed had sex—something everyone knew about anyway. Amy grinned to herself. She and Sheldon together really were an unstoppable force.

Leonard finally asked his question. "Was the coitus a one-time thing or will it become a permanent part of your relationship?"

"It is a permanent element of the relationship Amy and I share," Sheldon answered.

Amy sighed in relief. One more question and they were home free. Then, this last obstacle would be traversed and she could relax for a while. As much as she had missed her friends, she was really looking forward to going back to her little apartment and sleeping in her bed. A pang in her chest protested leaving Sheldon, but she told herself it didn't matter. They would see each other again on Saturday. The sound of a determined female clearing her throat reminded Amy of whom exactly that last obstacle between her and a good night's sleep was.

_Penny._

Penny smirked at both of them. This smirk left Amy with a sense of foreboding. Penny evidently wasn't happy about the one-question decision and, thus, wasn't going to make this simple for them.

"There's a lot I'm curious about," she said. "I could ask about your feelings for each other or your plans for marriage or kids or the future."

Amy tensed—not liking where this was going. There was no way she was going to allow them to force Sheldon to talk about those things.

Penny continued, "But, as I hate it when people do that to me, I won't put you on the spot like that. I could also ask how my bestie managed to seduce the immovable Sheldon Cooper." She gave a theatrical pause. "But I'm pretty sure it wasn't a seduction at all. It was most likely a mutual outpouring of affection on both your sides. God knows, after three years, it was about time something was pouring out." She eyed them carefully as if she were watching to see what their expressions would give away.

Sheldon pursed his lips. "I see what you're doing, Penny. You might be more clever than I give you credit for, but you're also trying to cheat. Ask your question or you will forfeit it."

She grinned and sent him a shameless wink as if to say _you're not the only one who knows how to play games here, buddy._ "Here we go. How," Penny said, carefully negotiating around the yes/no type of question, "has it—having sex—changed your relationship?"

It was a very insightful, complex question. It was also the kind of question only a person like Penny would think to ask. Sometimes, she thought her bestie was far wiser than any of them.

Amy was the first one to speak. "In most ways, it has changed nothing. Sheldon and I cared about each other before we left here. We care about each other now. We still relish spending time together and will continue to do so. Coitus has simply become another activity we enjoy, another way to show how much we care about each other." She turned to look at Sheldon to see if she was giving too much away.

He caught her gaze and looked back, unabashed and penetrating. He added, "In other ways, it has changed everything. Amy has always been the person in my life who is most like me. But now I understand her on a level I never even knew existed. We understand each other on that level."

"Any regrets?" Penny asked.

"No."

This came from Sheldon before Amy could admonish her bestie for trying to sneak in a secondary question. He said it with such firmness and authority that everyone in the room turned to stare at him in fascination—even Amy. Sheldon looked down at her, one eyebrow arching in question. She knew what he was asking.

"Me either," she affirmed, smiling back up at him.

The silence in the room continued for a while, as if allowing everything to soak in. It was finally broken by the sounds of barely muffled sobs coming away from the couch. The entire gang looked over to see Raj furiously wiping away tears with a wad of takeout napkins.

When he realized they were watching him, he hiccupped and said, "What? _That_ was romantic!"


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

"Come on dude, I'm exhausted, and Tyra Banks says the most important item in your makeup bag is a good night's sleep."  
_**Rajesh Koothrappali (TBBT Season 3)**__  
"__The Ro__ommate Transmogrification"_

Sheldon and Amy's relationship was not the only topic of conversation that night. There was other news to be shared, opinions to exchange, and outrage to be expressed over several developments that had happened while they were away. The chief among these was tenure, which Sheldon, Leonard, and Raj were still up for. It seemed that Kripke had brought his sycophantic endeavors to new lows, trying to give himself a leg up by taking advantage of Sheldon's absence and Leonard and Raj's distraction of being worrying for their mourning friend. As Kripke and Sheldon were still working on a joint project, this made Sheldon anxious to know what else his nemesis had been up to while he was away.

Howard bragged about an award his wife was up for while Bernadette brushed it off and said she was pretty sure a colleague had already beaten her out of it. He then moved on to a bunion his mother had recently had removed, a story which Sheldon quickly interrupted and redirected to ranting about Kripke again.

Amy could tell by the stubborn set of her boyfriend's jaw that he couldn't wait to get to work tomorrow and deal with the little Elmer Fudd-sounding cretin. She shared his avid need to return to work. It had been entirely too long since she'd worn a lab coat.

Raj interjected with the news of his upcoming trip to India to attend a cousin's wedding while Penny had them all laughing uproariously over a story involving a busboy and a waitress at the Cheesecake factory who accidentally got locked in the freezer together and ended up being found naked in a _very_ compromising position some ten minutes later. While they all found the situation humorous for obvious reasons, Sheldon did not. He spent ten minutes lecturing about hypothermia and the importance of maintaining core body heat in freezing temperatures. He then began some strange story about sleeping naked in the North Pole—something the other guys immediately jumped in to quell.

_Interesting reaction_, Amy thought, _I might have to ask him the particulars of that tale at another time._

The growing lateness of the hour and plain exhaustion made her leave long before she wanted to. She'd been having too much fun just sitting here watching them all interact with each other—and holding Sheldon's hand, of course. She would never grow tired of that. But the drowsiness would not be denied, and she soon announced her intention to depart. Besides stiffening at her side, Sheldon didn't react unfavorably to the news. He simply looked at his watch and nodded in agreement.

"Are you going to walk her downstairs?" Penny asked him as Amy reached down to get her purse with her free hand.

"What for?" he asked, looking genuinely confused. "Amy is well aware of how to get out of the building."

Penny rolled her eyes. "Some things never change."

Amy, however, wasn't offended. Sheldon was always going to be Sheldon. It was one of the things she loved most about him. Besides, if she wanted him to walk her out, she need only say so and he would have accommodated her. She knew that—even if their friends did not. She gave her boyfriend's hand a final squeeze, got off the couch, and told him goodbye.

"We'll walk out with you," Bernadette said, gesturing for Raj and Howard to get to their feet.

"I'll see you guys at work tomorrow," Raj said to Leonard and Sheldon.

The quartet had made it to the door and almost on the other side when Sheldon said, "Goodnight, turtle."

It startled Amy for a moment, but in a good way. She opened her mouth to reply, but Raj beat her to it.

"Goodnight, Sheldon," he called back, pulling the door closed behind him.

Amy bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Bernadette caught this reaction. "What?" she asked as they walked down the stairs together, following after Raj and Howard.

"Nothing," Amy answered, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

"Does anyone know why Sheldon called me by the name of a shelled reptile?" Raj questioned.

"Maybe it's a Texas thing," Howard offered. "You know, redneck slang of some sort?"

"Oh!" Raj blurted out excitedly. "Perhaps he's referencing _The_ _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_. You know how he loves the show. That would be cool—as long as I can be Michelangelo. I refuse to be Raphael. Raphael sucks."

The guys continued to propose stranger and less probably theories all the way out to their respective cars. Throughout all of it, Amy said nothing. She simply grinned in the knowledge of her secret endearment with her boyfriend.

— —

Climbing into her waterbed at the end of a long day was one activity she usually found relaxing. Tonight, however, it felt decidedly different. Amy flicked on the table lamp and looked over at the empty side of the bed. _I miss him._

Sheldon had never slept beside her in here. There was no logical reason that she should ache for his presence this way, but she did. Seeing his unoccupied spot only brought that sentiment home more. One of the romance novels she'd been reading before she went to Texas was stacked next to her alarm clock. She picked it up and tried to immerse herself in the tale. But as it involved a pirate and that only reminded her of Sheldon, she soon gave it up. Turning off the light, she laid back down again with a long sigh.

Between the "turtle" comment and the text message she'd received a half hour ago bidding her to "rest well," Sheldon was being every inch the attentive boyfriend. In fact, a few weeks ago, she would have been over the moon by these actions.

Now, it just made her desire his presence all the more. She wanted to drive straight over to his place in her pajamas and get into bed with him. They didn't even have to have intercourse. They could have just snuggled together in his impossibly narrow bed holding hands until they both fell asleep. _Sounds like paradise to me._

"Get over yourself, Fowler. Sheldon would never go for that. Besides, he'll be here in a couple of days. You can survive until then."

She knew the ache in her chest was more because they had spent every waking moment together for the last week. It was normal that she should feel some adjustment issues after that kind of intensity. No doubt, Sheldon was feeling them too.

"Or he's so happy to be in his own bed again he's sleeping like a baby," she muttered. The second she heard the bitterness in her voice, she tried to push that particular emotion away.

She was being petty because of loneliness. It was beneath her. Amy sighed and turned over. She hated feeling like this. It was what she imagined the monkeys in that addiction study she had done so many months ago had felt when they were taken off cigarettes. This was withdrawal, pure and simple.

_Great. I'm addicted to Sheldon, and there's no cure._

Considering her major area of study, the irony of that thought was too much. Pulling a pillow over her head, she groaned into it. It was going to be a long night.

— —

It took three cups of coffee just to get out of the apartment. Although, once she made it to the lab, there was so much to be done she barely had a spare minute to think about Sheldon or her lack of adequate rest. She did, however, notice that she didn't hear from him but it was only when she stopped to grab a sandwich late in the afternoon. _He's probably so pleased to be back at work or dealing with Kripke, he hasn't thought about it. _Likewise, she refused to allow herself to text him to see what he was up to. _He's busy. He won't like me bothering him. You have willpower, woman. Use it._

She worked late, trying to finish up some paperwork that needed to be completed. After swinging by the grocery store, she walked to her apartment door expecting to make a quick dinner, shower, and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Instead, she found Penny, Bernadette, some snacks, the latest issue of _Cosmo_, and two bottles of wine.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Penny smiled and held up the wine. "Girls' night, remember? We figured you would forget, so we decided to come here instead."

"I'm not answering questions about what happened in Texas with Sheldon, if that is what this is about," she warned, letting them both inside and setting her groceries on the counter.

"It's your business," Bernadette said. "We just missed you and wanted to hang out."

"Yeah," Penny agreed. "But if you get drunk on too much wine and happen to blab everything to us, that's fine, too."

Amy made a mental note then and there to stick to non-alcoholic beverages for the duration of the evening. As they indulged in a non-nutritional meal of chips, dip, chocolate bars, cookies, wine, and—in Amy's case—milk, they caught her up on all the female-related happenings of the week including a call-back Penny had gotten for a Pepto Bismol commercial.

"I've never been so excited to be called bloated-looking before," Penny gleefully touted. "I should find out whether I got it in the next day or so."

They wished her luck and exchanged opinions on ways the pretty blonde actress should spend this possible extra income. Bernadette thought she should pay down her credit card balance while Amy suggested putting it in a savings account in case of emergency. Penny, however, borrowed Amy's laptop to show them a new pair of shoes she'd been eyeing for weeks. Then, the night quickly devolved into an online shopping expedition to find the most gorgeous pair of shoes available. This naturally transitioned into cheating through quizzes in _Cosmo_ so they could get the right answers and not come off as what Penny referred to as "Omaha sluts"—although getting the "wrong" answer was more a problem for Penny than for Bernadette and Amy. Later, the women watched parts of a tawdry_ Lifetime_ movie and took turns reading aloud various articles from the magazine while debating the merits of each in relation to their own experiences with men. As Amy had only ever been with Sheldon, she didn't have much to contribute to those particular discussions.

When Penny was opening the second bottle of wine, she regarded her best friend carefully.

"You look tired, sweetie. You still exhausted from traveling yesterday?"

Amy nodded, helping herself to a Kit Kat. "It's just taking me a little while to get back into my old routine. I don't think I slept more than an hour last night."

"I don't think Sheldon got much rest either," Penny replied.

This perked Amy up. "Really?" _Could he be missing me, too?_

"Yeah, Leonard complained that Sheldon was up half the night working on his white board. Whatever it is must be top-secret because Sheldon wouldn't even let Leonard look at it. He was also up at the crack of dawn demanding to be taken into Caltech early. Then, Leonard said he was typing on his laptop the whole way there. It was weird—even for Sheldon."

_Of course, he's working. He's probably onto something brilliant. I'm the overemotional one here—as usual. _Amy closed her eyes. She hated this. She hadn't felt this insecure in a long time. It was ridiculous. Sheldon loved her. She was confident in this knowledge. _OK. So, why does spending one day away from him leave me feeling so bereft?_

"It'll be all right," Bernadette said, eyeing her with a knowing look.

Amy blushed and looked down. "I'm just tired."

"Yeah. Sure." Bernadette reached out and patted her shoulder. "You know, when Howie went away to space, I had a similar reaction. I don't think I had a real night's sleep until he was back at my side."

All pretense fell around Amy like a house of cards under a steep wind. "Yes, but Sheldon isn't in space. He's only a few miles away—no doubt playing vintage video games with his friends and not having to deal with feeling like this."

"We could go over there," Penny offered.

"No," Amy immediately replied. "I need to give him his space. Remember that article about 'The Seven Signs of a Clingy Girlfriend'? I certainly don't want to be one of those. Besides, he and I already have plans tomorrow. I'll simply have to abide these ridiculous feelings until then."

Penny scoffed. "Your feelings aren't ridiculous, and you're not clingy. You just miss him. It's normal."

"Wanna text him?" Bernadette offered. "That might make you feel better."

Amy actually considered the idea before swiftly rejecting it. "No. I'll be fine. I'm strong. I can handle this."

"I've never seen him so changed—and the way he was looking at you last night when he said he didn't have any regrets … I hate to say it because this is Sheldon we're talk about," Penny said, fanning her face dramatically, "but that was hot."

"Oh yeah," Bernadette added.

"I know," Amy replied, quickly changing the subject before it could turn to her and Sheldon and Texas. "So, did we agree the black, strappy sandals were the best ones?"

"No," Penny exclaimed, grabbing the laptop again, "it was the red pumps. See?"

— —

The next morning was better, but Amy wasn't sure if that was because she was getting used to her old schedule or because Sheldon was expected to be over in mere hours.

Maybe both.

It also didn't hurt that she was more rested. It had taken a while to finally fall asleep, but a last-minute texting session from Sheldon before bed helped. He'd informed her that he had updated the relationship agreement and would be bringing it for her review and signature. She responded and, before she knew it, twenty minutes had passed and fifteen texts had been exchanged. The last he sent had been the best one.

"I'll see you tomorrow, turtle. Pleasant dreams."

It took an hour to wipe the elated smile off her face and calm her racing heart. Penny and Bernadette wanted to know what Sheldon had written to make her look that joyful, but she refused to share it with them. As they were just happy to see her feeling better, they didn't push.

She spent Saturday morning talking to her mother on the phone and cleaning the apartment. It was good to catch up on all the family gossip and, as her mother didn't end the call with her usual 'When will you be bringing Sheldon to dinner?' question, Amy chocked it up to a good day.

The only snag came when she debated what to prepare for dinner. She wanted to make something special for Sheldon. _Maybe spaghetti with hot dogs?_ But that didn't seem special enough. She thought about it some more, but couldn't come up with a better alternative. _Spaghetti with little hot dogs it is._

She was vacuuming the living room when her mind wandered back over what had happened on their return flight. Between dealing with their friends and the withdrawal symptoms over the last two days, it had almost slipped her mind. Now, it was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Sheldon had been so emotional. It made no sense. She knew he loved her, of course. He knew she knew he loved her. He even had a loving look and, like his koala face, she'd memorized it. This was something more than that. _What is more than love?_ She had no ready answer. She only knew there was something more about him in that moment, a desperation to his tone, a wildness in his eyes, and a slight avidness to his expression—almost as if he were afraid she was going to disappear if he wasn't careful. _Which is ridiculous. He knows better._ Then, it was as if the emotions had gotten to be too much and he'd looked away_._ Amy hadn't wanted to push him; so she'd let him be. Sheldon was obviously still working things out in his mind. But, two days later, she would have given anything to be able to read his mind.

She groaned in frustration. After an hour of serious consideration, she was no closer to solving that particular enigma. _Maybe I never will._ Sheldon's brain was a complex machine. No matter how long they were together, there were going to be things even she wasn't able to decipher. _He'll tell me when he's ready. I can be patient in the meantime._

Her musings were interrupted by a text from an unknown number.

"Forgive me?"

Her brow shot up. _What the heck?_ She quickly typed back, "Who is this?"

"Missy. I got ur number from George. Is that OK?" was the reply.

Amy saved the number in her phone before responding. "That's fine. Do I forgive you? No. You shouldn't have told everyone."

"I didn't tell Mama. That's most important. Besides, I needed to tell SOMEONE."

Amy didn't answer. It wasn't that she was especially mad or anything. In fact, she was actually grateful things had turned out the way they had. It was far easier to have everything out in the open than having to worry about sneaking around. Nevertheless, she felt it was better to let Missy stew in her own juices for a while.

A few minutes later another text binged on her phone.

"I'm sry. Really. Was it bad when u got back?"

Amy worded a swift reply. "Bad enough. But it's over now."

"Sry. Can u please forgive me? If it helps, Greg was supposed to kiss me the other night & now refuses to do so until I 'understand the error of my ways'. He's being ridiculous."

Amy started to craft a response, but then decided she didn't want to type anymore. She pressed a few buttons and soon had Missy on the line.

"Took you long enough," Sheldon's sister said instead of the standard "Hello" greeting. "I thought I was going to have to text you all day."

"Why not just call in the first place?" Amy asked.

She could practically hear Missy chewing her nails down to the quick. _She must be really nervous_, Amy thought. _Good. _

"I didn't know if you would answer an unknown number or a call from me. I wasn't sure how mad you were. Please don't be mad. You're my friend and all, but Sheldon is my twin. He finally gives up the goodies and I have to talk about it with _somebody_. Penny was the only one who could understand. We've been wanting you two to get hot and heavy for a long time. You have no idea. If you were characters on a TV show, we would totally ship you. So, please don't be mad. Greg is mad at me for telling, George is mad for the same reason, Shelly won't talk to me—"

"You talked to Sheldon?" Amy interrupted.

"Yeah, well, I tried to a little while ago. But he mentioned some troll or something he was working on, demanded that I apologize to you, reminded me that our weekly talks happen on Sundays not Saturdays, and promptly hung up. I love my brother, but I don't think I'll ever understand him."

"'Troll'?" Amy repeated. "Are you sure that's what he said he was working on?"

"That's what it sounded like. I figured it was a sciency term or some kind of equation."

"No, a troll is a supernatural creature from Norse mythology and Scandinavian folklore. It has nothing to do with science or mathematics."

Missy sighed. "Then, maybe he was talking about one of those weird movies he likes to watch all the time. I don't know. My point is that you have to forgive me."

"Why? So Greg will finally kiss you?"

"No," Missy let out an inelegant snort, "I'll get him to kiss me when I want it bad enough. He thinks he's in control of this relationship, but I'm just _letting_ him think that for the time being."

Amy rolled her eyes. She was sure Missy thought that. Whether it was actually true or not was something else altogether.

Missy continued, "I meant what I said about wanting us to be friends, Amy. I might have gotten a tad overexcited, but I didn't have a right to go blabbing my mouth about you and Shelly's private affairs without your say-so. I might not be happy with my boyfriend's bossy nature, but he's right in this instance. I can see that."

With so sincere an apology, Amy couldn't help but agree. "Then you're forgiven. Just don't let it happen a second time."

"I won't. I promise. So we're friends again?"

"Yes," Amy replied, not bothering to explain that she'd never once considered Missy as not being her friend. "We're friends."

Missy let out a delighted sigh. "Good. Now I can tell you the scoop about how Ginny got selected for a TSA search during her flight back home yesterday. Apparently, the officer who stopped her was really good looking. Ginny thought he was flirting with her or something. So she agrees to the search, but then all heck breaks loose."

"Really?" Amy asked, on the edge of her seat. "What happened?"

"Well, let me put it this way. Ginny got herself felt up by a fat woman with more hair on her face than Uncle Stumpy and was madder than a wet hen when she found out she'd been chosen for search at random. The cute officer wasn't interested in her at all."

Amy gasped and pressed the phone closer to her ear. "No!"

"Oh yeah," Missy said. "Ginny'll be back for Thanksgiving—Lord, help us. I heard how horrible she was to you. So, I figure if she says anything nasty in November, we can ask about her strip search with her girlfriend Bertha the TSA agent."

Amy laughed uproariously. With friends as good as Missy at her side, meanies like Ginny didn't stand a chance. "Sounds like a plan," she said. "Look, Missy, since I have you on the phone anyway, can you do me a favor …"

— —

Amy was showered, dressed and ready by 5 pm. Dinner was on the table 55 minutes later. Sheldon's signature knock sounded 15 minutes after that. _Odd_, she thought. _He's never late._ She swung open the door, giddy with excitement at the concept of seeing him after what felt like a million years. It was all she could do not to jump him where he stood and pepper his face with kisses.

The fact that he was glowering helped curb that particular desire.

"What wrong?" she asked, stepping aside so he could come in.

"Leonard refused to bring me over here. Kept muttering something about the fact that I had prevented him from sleeping for the past two nights and how, now that I was finally going to be out of the apartment for a while, he was going to bed." Sheldon harrumphed. "He certainly had no trouble sleeping last night. It took me calling him three times to get him to wake up when I needed him."

He dumped the large, red satchel he was carrying next to the couch.

"Is that your laundry?" she asked, surprised that he would have so little.

He frowned. "No. That is what I'm trying to tell you. Since Leonard refused to bring me here and Penny was at work, I was left with no choice but to leave my laundry behind and take the bus if I was going to be on time. They, of course, had to stop for every Tom, Dick, and Harry located between my apartment and yours. It was a nightmare, believe me. Nobody seemed to care that I was going to be late or that you would be waiting."

"We can go pick up your laundry now if you like," she offered, trying to soothe his temper.

That only seemed to make it worse. "No, my entire schedule is thrown off. Let the anarchy begin! But I won't let this stand for long. Never you fear, Leonard shall feel my wrath when I return home. We have a roommate agreement for a reason. My—" He stopped and sniffed the air. "What's that intoxicating smell? Is that what I think it is?"

_He noticed._ She smiled and skipped over to the table, pulling the lid off of a glass baking dish with the flourish of a model exhibiting prizes on _The Price is Right_.

Sheldon rushed over with a childlike cry of delight. "Tater tot casserole! That's my favorite casserole and my second favorite food next to spaghetti with little bits of hot dog cut up in it!" He looked up at her, his blue eyes wide with surprise. "How did you know?"

"I asked Missy. She got the recipe from your Mom and emailed it to me."

"You did all this for me?" He stared down at the steaming dish and shook his head as if he couldn't believe it. Amy thought she had successfully averted his previously bad mood. However, by the time he looked back up at her again, something had changed. "_You _did all this for _me_."

Where he'd previously seemed pleased, he now seemed exasperated and angry. "Amy," he said with a frustrated sigh, "we need to talk."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?"_  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 4)**__  
__"The Engagement Reaction"  
_

If Amy hadn't known better, she would have thought Sheldon was going to break up with her.

All indicators certainly supported this hypothesis. The accelerated breathing, the sweat beading along her boyfriend's forehead, his inability to hold her gaze, the pacing, and the constant wringing of his hands were all classic symptoms of a nervous man about to end things once and for all.

_No! What happened? What did I do?_

It was only when he stopped pacing and turned on her with a grave, let's-get-this-over-with kind of expression that she went into full panic mode. "Sheldon, we don't have to eat tater tot casserole. I can make something else. Give me some time to defrost the hot dogs, and I'll make spaghetti with—"

"Sit down, Amy," he said with the authority of a high school principal.

The finality in his manner made her heart drop into her stomach. She eyed him, fearfully. "I don't want to sit down." _If I sit down, you'll break up with me and my whole life will be over._

This seemed to completely stupefy Sheldon, putting a crack in his stoic demeanor. "You have to sit down. It's protocol. I know we're deep in the realm of chaos here, Amy, but that doesn't mean we can't still have order."

She ignored his illogical statement and focused on what was really important. "Are you breaking up with me?" Her voice trembled, so high and small that it squeaked. "Don't break up with me. I love you. Whatever it is I've done wrong, I can fix it. We can redraft the relationship agreement to say whatever you want. If we're going too fast, we can slow down and—"

Sheldon seemed confused by her outburst at first. Then, he marched up to Amy, took her face between his hands and drew her in for a swift, hard kiss. When he moved back, his hands remained cupping her jaw as he carefully looked her over. "Better?" he asked.

Disoriented, she managed a slow nod. "Why did you do that?"

"You looked like you could use a reboot."

Amy couldn't even summon the will to laugh at the idea that he would have to do that for her. "Sheldon, please don't break up with me. I couldn't stand it."

One thumb rubbed lightly over her cheek. "What have I done to you? I'm so sorry. I've made a complete muck of this." He released her and stepped back. "Please calm yourself. I'm not breaking up with you. The mere idea of that is ridiculous. We do, however, need to talk. Now, sit down so we can get started."

She took the requested seat warily. He might not be breaking up with her, but the topic of discussion was clearly serious. As she couldn't imagine what kind of serious it could be, she fretted more. Sheldon grabbed his bag and joined her on the couch. After setting it on floor, he closed his eyes briefly, as though he had to gather his courage to continue forward. His fists clenched and unclenched in his lap.

"Sheldon, whatever this is, we can postpone. We can eat dinner first or talk about it tomorrow."

His eyes popped open. "What? No, too much time has passed already. I've been a coward long enough. I refuse to let fear rule me any longer—well, at least in terms of this. I'm still working on the other areas of my life."

"Fear?" She repeated. _Fear of what?_

"Yes," he said. "The only way to deal with fear is to confront it head on. You and Meemaw have both said that to me many times in the past. Well, like the mailman and the bird, I'm facing this." Sheldon shifted until he was facing _her_. "Amy, I must start with a prepared statement, followed by a declaration and then another prepared statement."

_A declaration? Could that mean what I think it means? _"What kind of declaration?"

"I said a statement and _then_ the declaration." He stared down at the now-clenched fists in his lap. "Don't make me get ahead of myself. This is hard enough as it is."

"I understand. Go ahead," she said, biting her lip in order to stay silent. The sooner she shut up, the sooner he got to this mysterious declaration part.

after another long minute, he looked up at her. "From the moment I met you, all those years ago, a day hasn't gone by when I haven't thought of you. And, now that I'm close to you again, I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you makes my stomach turn over—my mouth goes dry. I feel dizzy. I can't breathe …"

At first, Amy was enthralled. This level of depth and emotion in the words falling so freely from Sheldon's lips—and directed at her—was breathtaking and romantic. However, his monotone delivery, past experience, the fact that what he was saying didn't quite seem to fit their relationship, and too many nights being forced to watch science fiction with him clued her in to what was really going on here.

"Sheldon," she interjected, "are you quoting a movie again?" She searched her memory as diligently as she could. "_Star Wars_, right? The one where Luke's parents get married?"

He actually smiled at her. "Correct. Very good, Amy. The full title is _Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones_. Now, if you'll let me finish." He cleared his throat. "'From the moment I met you, all those years ago, a day hasn't gone by when I haven't—'"

"Sheldon," she said with an exasperated sigh, "stop quoting and talk to me. Whatever it is you need to say, say it." She placed her hand over one clasped fist. Amy leaned in close, lowering her voice to a soothing tone. "It's just you and me here. Use your own words."

He shook his head. "My words are inadequate. You deserve better."

"I want your words or none, Sheldon Cooper." She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.

He took this in, apparently picking up on the fact that she wasn't going to budge on this one. "You're being impossible." Sheldon flounced back against the couch.

She shrugged, unapologetically. "You like it when I'm being impossible. It stimulates you."

He considered this a moment before giving a quick, affirming nod. "Fine, but I want it noted that the quote would have made you cry."

Amy tried not to smile. "It is so noted. You may proceed."

There was a long pause of silence as Sheldon prepared himself. Finally, he exhaled heavily, got to his feet, and started to pace. She watched him flit back and forth a few times before she spoke.

"Sheldon, we don't have to do this now," she offered again, unable to see him this troubled. "We can have a nice dinner, plan what you should say to your brother, and maybe watch a few more episodes of _Firefly_. I purchased the entire series on DVD."

He stopped pacing and grinned. "You bought _Firefly_?"

She shrugged. "I liked it, and I thought you might like watching it with me."

Without warning, the grin turned into a scowl. "Here we go again!" He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated and started pacing again.

"What?" Amy asked, at a loss to what had set him off. "What did I do? Doesn't that make you happy?"

"Doesn't that make you happy?" Sheldon parroted. "As if _my_ happiness is all that matters! Here I am trying to figure out how to tell you I love you, and you keep doing all these unselfish things for me. Our relationship should be about equalities and reciprocity. But how can it be when you're always doing stuff for me and I can never do anything for you?" Sheldon stopped to glower at her. "You have no idea how maddening you are sometimes."

Amy didn't reply. She couldn't. _Did he say …? Did I really just hear what I think I heard?_

"Well?" Sheldon demanded, tapping his foot impatiently. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Say it again."

"Why are you smiling like that? You think this is funny?" he asked, obviously getting more agitated.

"Say it again," Amy repeated, the wide grin on her face getting impossibly wider.

"Fine. You have no idea how maddening you are sometimes. Really, Amy. I don't think you understand how frustrating it is to—"

"That's not the part I meant."

"What part did you mean?" he asked, bewildered. He searched his memory, obviously trying to figure out the answer for himself. Then, his cheeks colored as it came to him. "Drat! I wasn't supposed to blurt it out like that. I intended it to be more romantic. Raj said all women deserve romance. There was the quote, and then I was gonna say it in between that and the other part Raj made me memorize. Then, you would cry and I would kiss you and it would be perfect. I've been practicing and practicing. Raj wanted me to use a quote from _Jerry Maguire_, but I told him he was being absurd. What's more romantic than _Star Wars_?"

"You involved Raj in this?"

"Yes, of course." He looked at her as if that were the most normal thing in the world. "I needed an expert in romance. Raj may not be good at finding a girlfriend, but he is good at knowing what women like. Besides, he was willing to forgo his lunch break on Friday to help me out. You didn't think I would tell Leonard, did you? Not only would he have blabbed to Penny—who would have told you—but he has a tendency to make important proclamations in the middle of coitus. Even I know women don't like that."

Amy didn't care about any of that anymore. She got to her feet, only had one thing on her mind. "Say it again, Sheldon. Please."

"You're right. I should do it officially." Taking a deep breath, he blurted, "Iloveyou."

She eyed him until he glanced away, seeming overwhelmed by all that he'd just admitted. "Slower."

Sheldon looked up and stared her down, more determined than she'd ever seen him. "I, Sheldon Lee Cooper, am in love with you, Amy Farrah Fowler." He sighed. "I adore you. I worship you. I love you, and I always will. To my dying day, my heart will solely belong to you. I will never love another—"

He didn't have a chance to finish because she was already kissing him by then. Sheldon protested at first, but the second she wrapped her arms around his neck and angled her head to deepen the kiss, he became a willing participant. Then, he just took over. Like a starving man, he claimed her, rubbing his lips over hers with more and more ferocity until she had to break away just to catch her breath.

His breathing coming in short bursts, Sheldon rested his forehead against hers. "I wasn't finished yet, you vixen. I promised Raj I would say all of that last part and then _I_ was supposed to kiss _you_. You're distracting me from my mission," he said. "Are you in league with Leonard to drive me insane? How is it supposed to be perfect if you keep interrupting me?"

Amy hugged him, snuggling her face into his chest. "I love you, too," she said. She'd never been this happy before and after the week she'd just spent with Sheldon, that was saying something. "And it was perfect."

"Really?" he asked.

She pulled back and smiled up at him. "Really."

He smirked. "I told Raj a dozen roses was over the top. You're not that kind of woman. I did consider purchasing you a full skeleton, though. I was even going to try to have it engraved. But he forbade it. We had to compromise."

Amy laughed. "Maybe you can give me the skeleton for our anniversary instead. I've always wanted one."

"I knew it!" he yelled, executing an all-male fist pump. "In your face, Koothrappali! Don't tell me what my woman likes." Then, just as quickly, his excitement was covered in an all-business façade. "Well, yes. That's fine. Now, have a seat on the couch, and we can move on to the next part of the evening."

"There's more?" she asked.

"Of course."

As she couldn't imagine what else this evening might have to offer, she gratefully took her place on the sofa. _He told me he loves me. I can't believe it._ Sheldon set his bag on the coffee table, rifling through its contents. "I had an itinerary planned, but that is all gone to hell now. So, I will have to—pardon my slang—shoot from the hip."

Like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat, he pulled out a thick booklet, spiral bound with in a light blue cover, and handed it to her. Amy skimmed the title even before she had a firm grasp on it.

* * *

**Relationship Agreement **

_A binding covenant between Dr. Sheldon Lee Cooper and Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler_

(Revised)

* * *

She ran her fingers over the cover, so happy to see it. Other women wanted diamond rings or promises vowed before a preacher to feel assured of their lover's affections. But this document—and Sheldon's love—was all she would ever need. Amy smiled to herself.

"I've made all the changes we talked about as well as a few additions I felt were required given the current state of our relationship. While you're perusing—if you don't mind—I'm going to use your bedroom to change out of my bus pants. There was a drunk on the bus. I can feel his inebriated germs invading my skin even now."

"Of course," she said. "Help yourself. There's a bottle of Purell on my dresser."

"Thank you. If you see something you wish to negotiate, let me know. You should also feel free to consult an attorney."

She bit her lip so he wouldn't see her grin. "I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded—ever the consummate professional. After grabbing some clothes from his bag, he went into her bedroom and shut the door.

She scanned the document. Sheldon had flagged all the changes, additions, and modifications; so she only read those. Everything seemed to be in order. He had completely rewritten the section on physical affection. There were subsections for hand-holding, cuddling, kissing, and coitus detailing what was and was not allowed in public, the criteria needed for each to occur, frequency allowed in a given day, and an example schedule for coitus. At first glance, it looked overly strict. However, Amy knew enough to read between the lines. Yes, all public displays of affection—except for the Public Showing of Affection clause, of course—were limited to hand-holding. But the only criteria needed for kissing was privacy and for one party to have a desire to kiss the other. In Sheldon terms, this was tantamount to giving her free reign to kiss him anytime she liked. She wanted to scream like a giddy teenager, but restrained herself for fear that it would unnecessarily worry Sheldon. _Dignity and decorum, Fowler,_ she chided herself.

However, all thoughts of that went straight out the window when she made it to the new sections he'd included. The first such one was entitled "Sleepovers".

She read it aloud to herself, unable to believe the print before her. "Sleepovers shall be defined as 'pre-planned overnight assignations between the boyfriend and the girlfriend taking place at either party's apartment and resulting in both individuals sleeping in the same bed. Twenty-four-hours-notice must be given to the host in the event of a sleepover. This notice can be given via the phone, email, text message or other form of verbal communication. The required notice can be waived in the event that both parties agree. Coitus may or may not accompany a sleepover. [See Physical Affection Section, Coitus Subsection for coital criteria.] Hand holding, cuddles, and kisses are expected protocol during this time without need of advanced notice.'"

The section went on to explain that it was the duty of both the boyfriend and the girlfriend to make room at their apartment through the means of a "drawer, closet, and/or other adequate space" to keep the visiting party's clothes and personal paraphernalia.

Her boyfriend had just exited her bedroom when she got to that particular segment. "Sheldon, you want to keep your things here?"

"No," he said, retaking his position next to her. "That would be illogical. Where would we put my comic books?" He shook his head as if she were being overly silly and started pulling his notary supplies from the bag. "The section you're reading merely provides an easement in terms of private space in order to make sleepovers easier. To have you or me carrying clothes and other personal objects back and forth between apartments is most inconvenient—not to mention fraught with issues in the area of hygiene. I have already cleaned out a drawer in my dresser for you and made space in my bathroom for your toothbrush and feminine supplies. I simply require equal measure from you."

"That sounds fair" was all she could manage to say. She was too stunned to utter anything else. This whole night was like a dream come true.

"I have also made the requisite changes to my roommate agreement with Leonard so that he's aware of your increased presence in our apartment. Let me tell you, he was less than happy this morning when I woke him up to sign it. But it wasn't something that could wait." He pouted. "I might have felt guilty about that had it not been for his actions in refusing to bring me to you tonight."

Sheldon looked from her to the agreement. "Are you finished reading? Do you have additional questions?"

She wasn't finished by any means, but Amy also didn't need to read anything else. Sheldon had given her everything she'd ever wanted and then some. It didn't matter if the last few pages said she could never play the harp again. She would still sign it.

"Do you have a pen?"

"You agree to all of it?" he asked, looking surprised. "No exceptions, debates, or negotiations?"

"I agree to all of it," she confirmed.

He sighed as if relieved of a great burden. _Did he really think I wouldn't agree?_ she wondered with a shake of her head. He handed her a pen. She took it and reached over to deliver a peck to his startled lips.

Sheldon frowned. "Amy, restrain yourself. We are not finished conducting our business. There will be time for that later, during coitus."

She signed and initialed wherever he pointed on both her copy as well as his. After she was done and he was notarizing the documents, she arched an eyebrow and asked, "You planned coitus for tonight?"

He slapped his forehead and groaned. "I never showed you the itinerary, did I? My apologies. I suppose I didn't think of it as I was 'shooting from the hip'." He looked up at her, seeming disappointed. "As I did not give you the required notice, we do not have to engage in that tonight. We can just sleep."

"Oh, we will be engaging," she said, eyeing him intensely. "Name the time, and I'm ready."

Sheldon's breathing hitched. He looked away, wiping sweat from his brow. "You can't look at me like that right now. I'm not finished with my duties yet."

"That's fine," Amy said, not breaking eye contact. "The second you get finished, though, your ass is mine."

He gulped. Not bothering to chide her for her use of such crass language, Sheldon dove back into his bag and drew out a flat, rectangular box covered in blue crushed velvet. "Social convention dictates that a pair bond must show their romantic commitment in three ways. The first is to verbally express their feelings to each other, which we have done. The second is to log their commitment in some legal form, which we have also done. The final is through the use of a token gift." He handed her the box.

Amy opened the box and stared down. Inside was the loveliest necklace she'd ever seen. "Did Raj help you with this?" she said.

He shook his head. "I couldn't have him knowing our little secret," he said. "Do you like it?"

Propping the box on her knees, she pulled out a thin gold chain. Holding it up, the pendant in the middle of the necklace—a small, golden turtle—swung like a pendulum in front of her face.

She, of course, knew what it meant. It was their term of endearment for each other. Truly, it was one of the most stunning things she'd ever seen. That Sheldon had thought of it all on his own made it all the more so. "Why a turtle and not a turtledove?" she asked.

"Everyone knows a turtledove signifies eternal love. If it is a turtle, however, no one but you and I will ever know its true significance." He grinned and gave her a playful wink that did crazy things to her heart. "It's one of my more clever ideas."

"I love it. It's magnificent." She continued staring at it, reaching out to take the pendant between her fingers. There were tiny, golden limbs coming from the glittery shell as though the reptile were propelling himself through invisible water. Amy adored its simple, majestic beauty.

"It's not very expensive," Sheldon stated. "The pendant isn't even pure gold. It's gold-plated. But I will buy you one with a diamond in it for our thirtieth wedding anniversary."

Then, it hit Amy—what he was doing by giving this to her. It was just like Meemaw's fake pearl necklace. Love, she remembered Sheldon saying, was _an immortal fire that consumes you, takes you over body and soul until you don't know where you end and the other person begins, makes you want to be more than you can ever dream to be, and burns within you until you'd walk through the blazes of hell to keep the one you love from harm._ Pop-pop had said he felt that way about Meemaw and had given her the necklace to show her. Now, by giving her this necklace, Sheldon was expressing himself in the same manner.

A tear fell down her cheek as she looked at him. "You really love me," she said.

"Yes."

His answer was steady, resolute, and undeniable. And, even though Amy had already known his feelings and he had already told her he loved her, there was something about this firm "Yes" that made his feelings all the more palpable to her. Without a word, she slipped the chain over her head, her hand cupping the pendant like a lifeline. _This is Sheldon's love for me_, she thought. _Something I can carry with me wherever I go._ She wiped away her tears. _He's crazy if he thinks I'll ever want a diamond one to replace this._

She opened her mouth to tell him so when the rest of what he'd actually said came drifting through her brain. "Wait," she exclaimed. "What? 'Our thirtieth wedding anniversary'?"

"Yes," he said, completely calm and at ease as though he hadn't just thrown her world upside down.

"Sheldon, did you just propose to me?"


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

"Amy, when I look in your eyes and you're looking back in mine, everything feels not quite normal. I feel stronger and weaker at the same time. I feel excited and, at the same time, terrified. The truth is I don't know what I feel. Except, I know what kind of man I want to be_._"_  
__**Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 6)**__  
__"The Date Night Variable"_

_Sheldon wants to get engaged?_ _Huh?_ Amy should have been over to moon. Instead, she felt dizzy and a little queasy. "Did you just propose to me?" she repeated when he didn't answer the first time.

He tilted his head to look at her, puzzled. "Where would you get that?"

"You said you would get me a diamond turtle pendant on our thirtieth wedding anniversary."

He nodded, still looking confused. Then, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head, his expression swiftly changed from bewilderment to understanding to irritated. With a roll of his eyes, he walked around her, heading back to his bag. "Clearly, you didn't read everything in the relationship agreement like you said you did."

Amy followed after him, more muddled than ever. And—if she was being completely honest with herself—a little relieved. Getting engaged on top of everything else at this point would have been moving a bit too fast. She was content with the status quo.

Sheldon picked up the relationship agreement and flipped through the pages until he got to the one he sought. With a quick pivot, he showed it to her, one finger pointing out the section she hadn't previously read.

* * *

**SECTION XXI: NUPTIALS, PROGENY, AND THE FUTURE**

The boyfriend consents to propose marriage to the girlfriend at the end of an established period of adjustment and planning, which will be decided by the boyfriend. This period will be no shorter than one year and no longer than five years. The girlfriend agrees to assist in the selection of her engagement ring and waives her right to a bended-knee proposal as neither the boyfriend nor the girlfriend are overly-sentimental hippies. By signing, the girlfriend likewise agrees to accept the proposal when it is offered, to shield the boyfriend from the bulk of the wedding planning, and to have the ceremony preformed entirely in Klingon …

* * *

Amy didn't know what to say. She read the section again and again before finally looking up. "You've always said you didn't want to get married. You said it would interfere with your dream of a Nobel Prize."

He shrugged. "I'm not the only one in this relationship, Amy. If one of us truly wants something, it is up to the other to do all they can to make that happen."

Amy closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. She knew what was truly going on here. "Sheldon," she said, "you don't have to propose to keep me. I'm yours. I'll always be with you—any way I can have you. You want to win the Nobel. I don't want to stand in the way of that. If anything, I'm going to do everything in my power to help you accomplish that goal."

"I know," he said, staring her down. "Together we can accomplish anything. The last week has more than proven that to me."

"Then strike this section out. You don't have to marry me."

"Yes, I do. This is what you want. You'd do anything, sacrifice anything for me. And, if I didn't do the same, then I wouldn't be worthy of you. I told you before. This relationship between us is equal. It has to be or it won't work." He took her hand in his. "It took me a long time to realize how truly unequal things between us were. You've been carrying the majority of the burden. I'm sorry for that. I spent so much of my life worrying about myself—thinking all I had was me. I thought I was happy. I thought I was living. But it was all lies. I didn't start truly living until the day I walked into a café and met a woman who shared my aversion to soiled hosiery."

_Too much. It's too much._ Amy covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to choke her emotion before she started sobbing all over him. "Sheldon, don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't be romantic all on your own. That was the single most romantic thing ever said to me."

He stood up a little straighter and grinned. "Really? I didn't even practice that. I guess, like everything else, it's just an area at which I naturally excel." He glanced away and dropped her hand in favor of scratching his chin, as if contemplating the matter further. "Perhaps I should offer a few pointers to Raj to help him with his girlfriend issues."

She rolled her eyes at his supreme arrogance. It was just so … Sheldon. "As much as I appreciate you offering to marry me, I can't let you do it. It's too much. What you've given me already is more than enough."

Sheldon looked up, seemingly startled that she was still arguing about this. "Amy, you give me everything I need—usually without me even having to ask. Allow me to do the same for you. You want marriage. I want to give it to you." His voice sped up as if he were afraid she was going to get the wrong idea. "Not today. Not tomorrow and not next month—of course. But give me some time to adjust, and I will stand in front of everyone we know and vow to be your husband forever."

Somehow, this only made her feel worse, not better. "No, Sheldon, you don't want to get married. I know you. You feel pressured because you're afraid I might leave you someday. I won't. I promise. I love you. I just want to be with you. That's enough."

He frowned. "Don't you want to marry me?"

"That's not what—"

"Amy," he said, recapturing her hand in his, "I asked a simple question. Kindly grant me a simple answer. Don't worry about me or what I might have said in the past. Think only of what _you_ want." He stared deeply into her eyes. "If you could, would you marry me?"

_Those eyes._ She could never resist those eyes. "Yes." It was such a small word, and it took everything she had to utter it. "But that isn't what you want, Sheldon. It never has been. Admit the truth. You're only considering this because you're trying to give me what I want. That isn't what marriage is about. You're right in what you said before. Things should be equal between us—well, as equal as they can be. And, as much as I want to marry you, you don't want to be married, period."

"I want to be with you." He paused, as if letting the words he had just said run through his brain. Finally, he shook his head and started again. "No, I _need_ to be with you. These last two days have given me a lot of perspective. I've missed you more than I've ever missed anyone. I don't think I've slept longer than an hour without waking up and reaching for you. Every night, I go to bed, craving your presence. I get up in the morning, wanting to hear your voice. I'll be at work in the middle of solving an equation and my thoughts flit to you. What are you doing in that moment? I've had to stop myself from texting or calling you more than a million times. I knew I was being ridiculous to even want to do so. You're busy. I had no right to intrude. But it didn't change how I felt. I merely needed to be near you, to hear your voice, or to read your text. It's the strangest thing. I've spent my entire life content to be by myself. Now, I'm only content around you. It's like my spot is wherever you are, like you carry it around inside of you." Sheldon reached out to put his hand flat over her chest right above her heart. "Here. Right here. This feeling … it's like …" He stopped, as if searching for the right word.

"An addiction."

They said the words together. Their eyes met and held. _He's been feeling everything I've been feeling. _Logically, it shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. The fact that Sheldon would feel this way about her. That he would admit to feeling even half as much. It was such a relief to know she wasn't alone in that. _It's … too much. _Amy had never felt more fortunate in her life.

She smiled up at him. He smiled back and gave a slow nod.

"Exactly, Amy. An addiction. And while addiction usually has a negative connotation, I believe it's a good thing in our case. It has opened my eyes to lots of things. For example, our current situation of me living in my apartment and you living in yours will suffice for now. But, as we continue on, it won't be enough for me. This … craving … will make it imperative to have you living with me, sleeping with me … every day. The concept of you wearing my ring, carrying my name, and bearing my children is not as frightening as it used to be. In fact, the more I ponder it, the more it seems to fill me with an odd sense of pride. You're mine, and I love you. I want everyone to know it."

He swallowed, a little fear creeping into his expression. "Now, please understand that I'm not offering marriage today. I … can't. I'm not ready. Not yet. But I'm working up to it. I promise you that."

Amy couldn't believe this. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to scream from the highest mountain—all at the same time. If she never had another good thing happen to her in her whole life, this evening would Sheldon would be enough. She took a deep breath and let it out. "OK."

"Good. Then stop arguing with me about this. I want to marry you, woman. Just give me some time to plan it all, and I'll be ready. You were right when you said we could have everything we wanted. All we have to do is make a plan and work together. I'm going to win the Nobel Prize, but I'm going to do it with you as my wife. I can already see myself on the podium accepting my award and looking out into the audience. There you'll be smiling back at me, giving me the strength to overcome my public speaking issues. And, when it comes time for you to receive your awards, I'll be standing in the audience with our four children, leading the applause."

"Four?" Amy nearly choked. She picked up the relationship agreement, trying to see what else she'd missed. "I never agreed to four children."

"Even numbers are better," he said, waving off her concerns. "As the second of three children, I can tell you that odd numbers often lead to two ganging up against one. We could only have two, if you prefer. For my mind, four benign overlords are better than two. It'll be like _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_."

She dropped the booklet, walked up to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm going to read that entire agreement tomorrow, Sheldon Cooper. Whatever I don't approve of, we're going to revise. The first thing we're going to negotiate is the all-Klingon wedding ceremony."

"Oh no," he disagreed, wrapping his arms around his waist. The smirk on his face was all-male. "You already signed it. I've got you exactly where I want you, Amy Farrah Fowler, and you can't get out."

She kissed her way up his neck, causing him to shiver. "You sure about that?" she asked.

"You're not going to seduce your way into getting what you want. There's a rule about that in the relationship agreement, too. Besides, I'm not finished. I still have something else to show you."

"Later," she said, stepping out of his embrace. She unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it on the couch. Her undershirt followed two seconds later, leaving her naked from the waist up except for her necklace and a sheer, pink bra.

"I'm unmoved," he said, arching a brow at her defiantly. "Coitus isn't scheduled for," he looked down at his watch, "another two hours." He glanced up just in time to catch her bra. "Amy!"

She was already halfway to the bedroom. She stopped at the door, her bare back still to him, and peeked over her shoulder. With a brazen wink, she gave him the Patrick Swayze _Dirty Dancing_ finger crook she'd been dreaming of using ever since she was a little girl. "Come along, Sheldon."

Amy didn't wait to see if he would follow. She didn't need to. From the muttered "Vixen" that came from his mouth and the sound of his shoes hitting the carpet, it was obvious he was on his way.

— —

Reheated tater tot casserole wasn't half bad. Sheldon doused his in ketchup, but Amy made do with a little pepper. Dinner was served at nearly nine in the evening, but neither seemed to care. After two bouts of the most passionate coitus on the planet, there was little that was going to bother them tonight.

After dinner, they worked together to clean up the dishes and put away the leftovers. Next, Sheldon escorted her to the couch where he showed her his final present for the night. At first, she wasn't sure what it was.

"Why are you giving me a scroll?" she asked, looking at the tube of paper wrapped in a bright red bow.

"Because scrolls are my third favorite way of transmitting the written word, because they don't get used enough in the modern world—to my mind at least—and because it was the only way to adequately demonstrate what I needed to show you. Open it."

Amy pulled off the bow and unwound the long paper. Sheldon found various objects to act as paperweights so she could look at the long, horizontal document from left to right on the coffee table without having to hold it down herself. What she found was confusing at first. Then, when she realized what she was looking at, it nearly shocked the nightgown off of her. "Sheldon, is this a …?"

"I call it the relationship timetable. It plots out the next several years of our lives, both as a couple and as individuals. What do you think?"

There was a long timeline along the bottom, ticking off months spanning over fifteen years. Here and there would be markings displaying various important events. One of the first events was happening in August.

"You want to go to my family reunion?"

He shrugged. "Equal relationship, remember? Besides, if we are to marry, it is expected that I should begin meeting your family. If you notice, I have scheduled some time for me to formally meet your mother. I know you didn't seem keen on this before, which is why I don't have it planned to occur for another month. I figured that would give me time to woo you around to my way of thinking."

She grinned. "You think you can 'woo me around'?"

He grinned back and waggled his eyebrows in a way she found absolutely charming. "You just did it to me. What's good for the goose is certainly good for the gander, you vixen."

Amy laughed and looked back down at the timetable. Apparently, Sheldon was planning for them to find an apartment together within the next year. Within eighteen months, he was tentatively planning to propose. She looked closer to make out the small lettering.

"You're proposing marriage to me at the train depot?"

Sheldon grinned eagerly. "They have a little, red caboose in the back that you can rent out by the day. It has real gas lamps inside and a whistle! I've always wanted to use it, but could never find a special enough reason to do so."

Amy giggled. She couldn't help it.

"Isn't that all right?" He seemed worried.

"It's fine. Just make sure you have orange blossoms on hand. They're my favorite."

He nodded, clearly making a mental note.

She looked at the rest of the timeline. After two years of marriage, Sheldon wanted them to have a child. Three years after that, they would have another. Three years after that, there was a question mark.

"What's that for?" she asked, pointing to it.

"That's when we decide whether to have two children or four."

"Well, seeing as how I would have to deliver the fourth one into my forties and the chances of birth defects, Down Syndrome, and the like all increase with a woman's age, let's stick to two, shall we? Unless, that is, you plan for us to have twins each time?" she asked.

Sheldon scowled in disapproval. "You're being ridiculous. Twins run in my family, of course. But only through the female line." He harrumphed. "Twins, indeed."

Amy turned back to the timeline. "You plan to win the Nobel Prize in eleven years?"

"Yes," he said resolutely, "taking into account the current trajectory of my career, my research with Kripke and a plan I have with Leonard, I should receive my nomination in eleven years, plus or minus a year."

"A plan with Leonard?"

"Yes. As much as I loathe to admit it, Kripke has some novel ways of approaching some of the issues we've been faced with in our joint project. His fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants method is a little messier than I'm used to working, but it has given me valuable insight into other theories I've been previously stuck on and, therefore, had to put on the back burner. Once my project with Kripke is complete, I'll revisit one particular theory I have put together, utilizing these new approaches. It's going to take several years to see to fruition. However, once I am done, I can work with Leonard to prove my theory. He is, after all, an experimental physicist. If all goes the way I believe it will, I'm a shoe-in for the Nobel."

Amy slapped a hand over her mouth in shock. "You plan on winning the Nobel Prize with Leonard?"

He shrugged. "He's my best friend. I couldn't trust anyone else to run these experiments. And, if I had to share the prize with another physicist, it might as well be him."

Amy threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. "I'm proud of you, Sheldon. You've come so far in such a short amount of time."

"Yes, well, I might change my mind given his behavior tonight," he mumbled against her hair.

_And we're back to the old Sheldon_, Amy thought with a laugh. Then, something Missy had said earlier suddenly made since. "The troll!" she said as she pulled back from him.

"Troll?" Sheldon repeated. "What are you talking about?"

She gestured toward the scroll. "Is this what you've been working on for the last two days?"

"Yes. Well, this, the changes to the relationship agreement, and all the practice with Raj. Leonard kept complaining, but I had to get it all finished before I saw you again. Plus, I couldn't sleep at night without you." His forehead puckered in confusion. "Now, what's this about a troll?"

"Your sister said you were working on a troll. I think she misheard 'scroll' for 'troll'," Amy explained, fighting a yawn. She darted a glance at the clock on the oven. It was nearly eleven.

Watching her, Sheldon said, "You're exhausted and I'm exhausted—not to mention that it is clearly past my bedtime. Plus, we still have lots to do tomorrow. You're going to help me with George, and I've got laundry to complete. What do you say we go to bed?" He offered his hand to her.

Amy stared down of it, thinking of that night, weeks ago when she'd sat in her car marveling over the fact that her boyfriend had touched her twice in one night. _Ahh, how far he's come. How far we've both come_. Sheldon was right. Together, they could and would do anything they set their minds to. There were still bridges to cross, fears to face, decisions to make, drama to deal with, tears to shed, and arguments to lose. But, at the same time, there were jokes to be shared, discoveries to make, living to be done, happiness to be found, and lots of love to be shared.

Amy slipped her hand into Sheldon's and, following him to the bedroom, smiled contentedly as one thought ran continuously through her brain.

_It's going to be quite a story to tell Meemaw when we see her again._

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: There you go. All done. I began the book with a quote from Amy and ended with one from Sheldon. There is nothing I love more than emotional symmetry.**

**If you liked my little story, let me know by reviewing. If you didn't, let me know by reviewing and leaving me your home address so I can hunt you down. LOL. **

**I have so enjoyed spending this time with you. It took me a little over three months to start, write, and finish this. I have written books before, but never this fast. I owe my speed to you readers. Your enthusiasm, support, and love for this story and these characters has been inspirational and motivating. I hope I didn't let anyone down. **

**Don't worry about me, though. I'm exhausted, but not going anywhere. You will see more from Misophonia. As you can see from my profile, I have a lot of obsessions out there and writing is my way of working them out. As long as I can see a good story in my head, I will write it.**

**Sequels****: I should probably address this as it keeps coming up. I have no current plans to write a sequel to **_**The Family Reunion Probability Theorem**_**. While it would—no doubt—be fun to write **_**The Adventures of Amy and Sheldon: Married with Kids**_**, there really isn't a lot of story there left to tell. Just fluff. And, while fluff is fun, it can get boring in terms of an actual story. However, if I found an interesting twist, I would do it in a heartbeat. I've even thought about rewriting TFRPT entirely from Sheldon's POV. How fun would that be? (Please note: This is a joke.) Right now, I have a few other stories in mind I'd need to get out of the way first. I think I'll focus on those.**

**PS – Any guesses why this fic is titled the way it is? LOL. There are a lot of reasons for me, but I'm curious to get your take.**

**PPS –Now, if you'll excuse me, I just finished writing a book. I'm going to crack open an ice-cold bottle of Yoo-Hoo, break out my old box of dominoes, and see what kind of trouble I can get into. Cheers! :D**


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